Knight Rider: The Next Generation: Normandy Invasion
by xXBlack'BladeXx
Summary: They made her a target. They made her a weapon. But she chose her own path. Based off OLD KR series with nods to the new. Dedicated to the old KITT, because we will love you always, super-car. ;) I DO NOT OWN KNIGHT RIDER. Rated T for violence and some language.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Jason Culpeper paced in front of the fireplace, anxiety pouring off him in reeking waves. The winter night was quiet. Far too quiet—just like it always was when she was near. And she _**was**_ near... so near he could almost feel her breathing hotly down his neck already. For four months, he'd been running from her; trying to stay one step ahead; trying to stay alive. But now, he realized it was useless. She wanted his head on a platter... and she always got what she wanted in the end.

Across the room, guarding the entrance, a large burly man stood monitoring a set of security screens. Dressed in combat boots and a Kevlar suit similar to that worn by spec. ops. agents with an automatic in his hands and numerous more guns and knives holstered across his body, this man was simply known as Chief. Taking a hand off his gun, Chief put it to his ear and switched on his comm-link. " Perimeter, report," he ordered, a heavy Russian accent in his gruff voice.

" Alpha team clear," another Russian voice reported.

" Beta team clear," another team returned.

The reports went on.

" It doesn't matter," Jason declared from across the room as he stopped to pour himself another glass of vodka.

Chief turned his attention to the young man, but said nothing.

Culpeper raised his glass to his lips and gulped down the contents before refilling it. " You can't stop her," he went on, sinking down into a large plush arm chair. " No one can stop her."

" 'Her', sir?" Chief snagged up the word.

Jason glanced over his shoulder at his bodyguard and was silent for the longest time. " There's a girl out there, Chief," he finally answered, looking back into the fire, watching the flames as they licked and lapped at the logs, " And she'll stop at nothing to see me dead. I was afraid that if I told you, you wouldn't take the job. I never should've hired you." He seemed to say the last sentence more to himself.

But Chief still heard. " Just who do you have me and my men up against here, sir?" he questioned warily.

" She is known by many names all over the world," Culpeper replied as he took another sip of vodka. " In America, she's called 'The Girl With Red Eyes'. In Romania, her name translates to 'Demon Girl'. Here in Russia, she's known as..."

Chief suddenly interrupted by uttering in Russian.

Jason grinned and couldn't help but chuckle, despite how close he was to the end. " 'Blood Irises'," he translated the name, " yes. You know of her, then?"

" Everyone working the undergrounds and underbellies of the world knows of her," the gruff Russian answered. " She's so notorious as to be labeled a myth."

Culpeper chuckled yet again, except this time it was more of a wry cynical laugh. " Oh, she is very real, believe me. There is nothing mythological about her whatsoever, except maybe for the speculation that she can walk through walls, and sometimes I wonder if that tale is true as well. No, everything about her is as real as those bullets in your gun, and just as deadly too."

Chief released a low whistle. " Wow," he mused, a slight smirk pulling up at a corner of his mouth. " Just what did you do to get her on your tail?"

Jason was silent for a long moment as he looked down at his reflection in the vodka glass. Almost time for a refill. He downed the last swig of the liquid and reached for the bottle on the table to fill up again. At least he'd die in the warm arms of alcohol. " I just stepped out into the open at the right moment, I suppose," he finally answered, voice quiet and thoughtful. He sat back again and took another drink. The man swished the slightly bitter fluid around in his mouth before swallowing, trying to imprint the flavor of it in his brain so he could have at least one pleasant thing to die upon. When he swallowed, he sighed heavily. " My first encounter with her was four months ago at my safe house in the Philippines. You see, Chief, when you're in the kind of business I'm in—deal the kind of people I deal with—you tend to make a lot of enemies. As a result I'd bought the best security detail money can buy to protect me. Last year alone, they'd stopped over two dozen attempts on my life—they even took out a ninja assassin. They were the very best—the very best. But then this girl comes along and takes all fifty of 'em down in ten—maybe fifteen minutes. I barely got away.

" I spent the next two months in Morocco, wondering why she let me get away... and then she came for me. My company itself had sent ten of it's best, most powerful, and most deadly operatives to protect me." Culpeper shook his head and chuckled softly to himself as he recalled the day. " She cut 'em down like wheat. Took her maybe twenty—twenty-five minutes tops. Yet somehow, I managed to slip out the back door again, all the time wondering just how I managed to escape." The man sighed deeply. " And here we are today, and I finally understand her. She wanted me to feel this way. To experience what it's like to realize that you have nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. She wants me to know what it feels like to be helpless, trapped... at the end of the line." Jason looked down at the vodka in his glass, no longer interested in drinking any. A chill suddenly went up his spine. He looked back over his shoulder towards Chief and voiced the question, " How's your perimeter now?"

Chief suddenly looked back at the security screens to find every last one of them showing nothing but static. He burly man cursed in Russian and began frantically typing in codes to try and clear them up, but it didn't work. The cameras were officially off line. Switching on his comm-link again, he began shouting into it, " Perimeter, report! Report, damn it!"

" They say she shows you her face before she kills you," Jason whispered to himself as he began to sip his drink again.

" Report!" Chief ordered again. This time a voice came over the link.

" It's too late for your boss, Chief," the voice belonged to a girl, somewhere in her early teens, " but you still stand a chance. Get out of there, now while you still can."

Chief threw the comm-link away as if it burned him. " Damn!" Then suddenly he heard floorboards creaking outside the door. " Piss!" Chief whipped out his automatic and proceeded to mow-down the wall. Dust and debris flew everywhere. Finally the man took his finger off the trigger and listened carefully as the dust settled. Nothing. Stepping through the demolished door and out into the hall, Chief checked his left. Clear. He moved on to clear his right. No sooner had he turned his back when he heard a soft ring of a blade and felt the sharp tip of a dagger at the nape of his neck. He froze.

" You don't stand a chance, Chief, and I don't want to hurt you," the girl's voice that he'd heard on the link reached his ears. " Put the gun down and your hands behind your head."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chief knelt down and put his gun on the ground, the dagger tip never leaving his neck, then he stood back up and put his hands behind his head. He waited. The dagger left his neck and he acted. Throwing his hands down into fists, he spun and swung for his opponent, but he only hit air. He heard the air shift behind him and spun again with a swing. A masked figure all clad in black swung out of the way of his fist with expert ease. He swung again and she blocked his punch. Kicking out with a leg he meant to aim for her head, but she put up a defensive kick of her own that caught his and forced his leg down, causing him to stumble back. Chief quickly regained his footing and turned back to face his opponent, but she was nowhere in sight. " What?" the man breathed eyes darting around. " Wh-where did you go?" Before he could think a pair of hands had seized hold of his head and with one quick jerk snapped his neck like a twig. His body thudded to the floor.

Releasing a deep, slow exhale the masked girl turned to face the entry to the room. Stepping over Chief's gun she strode into the room, the thick rubber soles of her combat boots making next to no noise one the wooden floor. She stopped just inside the door, eyes locked on the man at the other end of the room. She made no noise but the man didn't need it to know she was there.

" So here we finally are," Jason sighed after a moment. " Me—a mouse in a trap. You—the cat who swallowed the canary. I suppose I should've known it'd come to this." Looking down into his vodka glass, the young man moved it so he could see her reflection in the side of it. " Huh," he chuckled. " So it's all true. The black body-suit, the mask, the optic-visor."

She remained silent.

" So is this how it all ends? You just kill me straight-out, cold?"

"Why not?" the girl finally spoke, her voice rather dark and angry. " It's what you did to my parents."

At that the man laughed. Actually it wasn't more a laugh as it was more a roaring guffaw. Culpeper laughed and laughed and laughed—he laughed until his sides hurt and until tears were streaming down his cheeks. He just couldn't stop laughing!  
>The girl said and did nothing. She simply stood in the space by the door, watching Culpeper as he cackled like a madman. Even from her place across the room, she could smell the alcohol wafting pungently off him. With that much alcohol in his system, the girl was amazed he was still conscious, let alone coherent enough to have addressed her. Then again, Culpeper had always possessed the extraordinary ability to hold his alcohol like no other man alive. Perhaps he had been genetically modified as well at one point. Not exactly a powerful ability to have, but maybe being able to hold and withstand extensive amounts of alcohol within the system did have its advantages.<p>

Finally, Jason's guffaws quieted, and then began to stop altogether. He then stood and turned to face his killer—much to the girl's utter and silent amazement. The man wiped his eyes and grinned maniacally at her. " You're gonna have to be a bit more specific, sweetheart," he stated, his voice slightly slurring and possessing the remaining hint of a chuckle. " I've made orphans out of a lot of people in my time; I'm not gonna remember every single one!"

" You mean you don't remember me?"

" That's what I'm saying."

" Then why don't you take a closer look?" the assassin demanded, and with that, reached up and removed her mask and vizor. As the black leather headpiece was pulled away, golden hair streaked with silver was let loose and streamed to the middle of shoulder-blades—her bangs were silver tipped in gold and tapered off a little above her eyebrows. And looking out from beneath those bangs, were two, frightening, blood-red orbs.

The minute her face was revealed, Culpeper gasped and stumbled back, white as a sheet, looking like he'd just seen the Ghost of Christmas Past—in a way, he had. His stomach knotted. It wasn't the child's age that got him—she couldn't have been over thirteen—but those eyes. Those eyes! This couldn't be happening! It just couldn't be happening! He gulped. " Y-you!"

The girl's face remained impassive however. She dropped her mask and stepped on it as she tread a bit closer towards the petrified man, shattering the optic-vizor. She held her arms off to the side, as if giving Culpeper a better look of her. " Remember me now, Jason?"

" Y-you're alive!" Jason panted, sweat beading on and running down his forehead.

" I am," the teenager agreed pragmatically.

Culpeper shook his head." B-bu-but that-that's impossible!"

" Is it, now?"

" You're supposed to be dead! H-how in hell are you alive?!"

" I guess you'd have to ask your operatives that," the girl answered with a shrug. Then she looked as if she'd just remembered something. " Oh, wait," she mockingly gasped. " You can't. I put 'em six feet under, as payment for what they did to my mother and father—for what _**you**_ and _**Dark**_ made them do to my mother and father."

" You were supposed to be at the house. You were supposed to be inside when it burnt to the ground!" Jason declared, trembling as he continued to back up farther and farther away from the assassin. " You were supposed to die along with them! Oof!" The man tripped over the coffee table and fell to the floor.

" Well, obviously I wasn't, so I didn't," the teenager hissed. Almost seemingly out of nowhere, she suddenly whipped out a pair of beautifully crafted but merciless looking sai daggers. Her step became faster as she advanced upon him. " You had them taken from me, Culpeper. You had them slaughtered in cold blood and you had them taken from me!" Pain and rage were both evident in the child's voice and her eyes glistened with tears. " Enhancing me, turning me into a freak and a monster, targeting me; that's all one thing. But to take my family from me?!"

" Your fates were sealed the day your parents took you and walked away from the organization," Jason explained, trying to scramble to his feet. " Your parents knew their chances and they took them. We may have turned you into a freak, Winters, but a monster? Sorry to break it to ya, kid, but that's the work of your daddy and your uncle, not Dark. _**We're **_not the ones that turned you into a child assassin."

" I'm _**not **_a child!" the teenager screamed suddenly, stopping in her advance, body rigid and defensive. " Not anymore." She picked up her step again and stalked towards Culpeper. " Even if you didn't train me," she snarled, " you still made what I am possible. That makes you guilty." With that, the girl lunged forward with a roar and stabbed both sai through the man's chest: one dagger penetrating him on the left side, just a centimeter or two above his heart, and the other puncturing the same area on the right side of his chest. She held the weapons there for a moment, watching as her victim's wide eyes glazed over with shock and pain and blood ran down the front of his suit. Slowly, she pulled them back.

Once the knives had left his body, Jason crumpled to the floor and laid there, gasping for breath. He coughed and spat up blood. Looking up at his assassin, who was standing silently before him, watching his every move with dead, emotionless eyes, he glowered and pulled back his lips in a weak snarl. " Go to hell, Normandy."

Normandy stripped off her bloodied gloves and threw them at the man's feet. " You first, Culpeper." With that, she turned on a heel and marched out of the room. She stopped beside the large hole in the wall and dug into a pocket of her utility belt. A second later she pulled out something silver and shiny. For a moment she fiddled with it, apparently typing in something, since Jason could hear soft beeping, and then turned back to him, the object in question still in her grasp. " You had my family burned," she announced, face still cold and distant. " Now it's my turn to burn you." The teenager then turned and slapped the device to the wall. She glanced at Culpeper once more. " Burn, Jason Culpeper." The exited the room, pressing the red button on the device on the way out.

A few minutes later, Normandy was just exiting the steps of the large mansion. She descended the cobblestone stairs and marched off down the long driveway of the estate towards the large wrought iron gates at the other end; a single solitary black figure against the stark white snow. Fifteen yards away from the house, the teenager slowly began counting. " Ten, nine, eight..." she now passed the large, icy fountain, "... seven, six, five, four..." she'd gained five more yards, a safe enough distance away for her, "... three, two, one."

Behind her, the west wing of Culpeper's mansion exploded with a deafening boom. A second later the east wing did the same thing. Finally the center of the house exploded as well. Soon the mansion was engulfed in flames, taking the bodies of the guards, the evidence of her presence, and Culpeper with it.

Heat wrapped around Normandy like a hot blanket, making her sweat. Above her snow started to fall, covering the tracks she left behind. Around her ember's flew. Only when she reached the gates, did the teenaged assassin turn and gaze upon the sight of her latest work. " Another one down," she said to herself, " dozens more to go." As the fire engulfed the house, the flames shone in the emotionless, cold, blood-red pits of her eyes—the eyes of a killer.


	2. The Teenager & the Trans Am

" I don't wanna fade out-I don't wanna fade in... like everybody should. I don't wanna fade out-I don't wanna fade in... like everything before..." Paloalto; _Fade Out-In_

1

The Teenager & The Trans Am

Seven Years Ago;

A man and woman sat on a bench in a mind-numbingly white room. They were both somewhere in their mid- to late twenties with blond hair—the man's slightly darker than the woman's. The woman had light blue eyes and the man had dark brown. They both had fair skin and they both looked worried.

Between them sat a child, not much older than six. She was small, sickly pale, and very, very thin—so thin that she almost appeared to be a living skeleton. The white gown that she wore came to her ankles, just allowing her dainty feet to peek out at the bottom. Large—almost too large—brown eyes that matched those of her father's peered out from her gaunt and hollow face while tiny, bony, cold hands nervously played with her waist long, white-blond hair. She seemed so frightened... so fragile, like a baby bird. The child trembled.

Automatically, her parents put their arms around her and slid closer to her, enveloping her in a hug. They met each others eyes. For the millionth time, they asked themselves the same question: was this the right thing to do? Their daughter was deathly ill—had been for almost two years now—and every doctor and specialist they'd been to could do nothing to help her. They hadn't even known what had ailed her! But then they had been discovered by Dark, an organization that specialized in genetics and other sciences of the human body, and had met with the president of the organization. She had told them of a special operation they were doing—something that had to do with making people stronger, faster, smarter... healthier. She'd told them the operation could save their little girl. Like any devoted and desperate parents, they'd taken the deal without any thoughts as to what the cost could be. They didn't care what they had to pay; all they wanted was their baby to be healthy again.

Suddenly a door banged open, making them all jump. They looked up to see two men: one was dressed in a lab coat, the other was in what almost looked to be a containment suit. " We're ready for the girl," the man in the lab coat stated, no emotion whatsoever in his voice.

The child's already wide and fearful eyes grew even more wide and fearful, but she got to her feet anyway. She didn't want to be sick anymore either. Taking a few steps forward, she paused and looked back at her parents, who only gave her—or at least tried to give her—reassuring smiles and a nod of their heads. She turned back to look at the two men. The man in the lab coat was tall, thin, bald, and stared at her with such a cold expression that a shiver ran down her spine, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She couldn't see the face of the man in the containment suit, and she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

That's when the man in the containment suit held out a large, gloved hand. " Come, girl," he ordered, his voice firm and somewhat harsh. " It's time."

Slowly, hesitantly, the girl reached out and took his hand. She was nearly lurched out of the room, the door slamming closed behind her, cutting her off from her parents.

* * *

><p>Present Day;<p>

The air was absolutely frigid, and snow was still lightly drifting down around a solitary figure walking across the landscape. Normandy watched as her breath came out her nostrils in puffs of white. Walking silently with her hands in her pockets, the thirteen-year-old could care less that she could no longer feel her ears of the tip of her nose. If anything she welcomed it. She liked the numbness and biting cold because it was better than feeling the painful void that had plagued her for so long now. It had been three years since the murder of her parents, and the teenager wasn't sure if she'd ever heal from the devastating loss. Every day was hell without them. Granted that wasn't really saying a lot, considering that, even before their death, her life had been hell since her enhancement, but at least her parents had made it somewhat bearable with their undying love and devotion. True, she still had her uncle, who loved her just as much as her parents had and viewed her as his own daughter, but it just wasn't the same. The girl silently wondered if she'd ever feel that kind of love again.

Sighing, Normandy kicked at a small snow pile, causing it to scatter everywhere. To think normal human teens thought they had it hard! Suddenly she heard it—a snap of a branch followed by the very light crunch of snow under feet. The girl's ears pricked to the sound of breathing. Slowly, carefully, expertly, Normandy reached behind her, up the back of her jacket, and into a hidden slit at the back of her body suit, grabbing the tsuka—or handle—of one of her sais which were sheathed in the special ribbing of her leather suit. Making no noise, she slipped it out, gripping the leather-bound handle firmly. She waited. All of a sudden there was another crunch of snow and an unnatural air shift to her left. Tossing the sai and catching it expertly by the moto—center-most main blade of the dagger—the teenaged supersolider whipped around and chucked it in the direction of the disturbance. Soon enough there was a solid _**thunk! **_followed by a startled yelp. Reaching back again, Normandy brought out her other sai and dashed in that direction. She pushed through a snow-covered thicket and was met with the source of her noise. Her eyes bulged wide. " Glen?"

A Caucasian male, somewhere in his early forties of middling-sized height, had been the source of the noises. He had a light brown flat-top and green-gray eyes and was clean shaven, dressed in a black, athletically built thermal suit. The main point though, was that he was pinned to the trunk of a tree with Normandy's dagger. He was gaping at the sai through his jacket with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Slowly, he looked at the girl. " Damn, Normandy!" he exclaimed. " You coulda friggin' killed me!"

Shaking off her surprise, Normandy scowled at the man and stormed over to him. She stopped before him and rested her hands on her hips. " Well, it's not _**my **_fault," she snapped. " You wouldn't be in this situation right now if you hadn't been following me!" The teen scoffed and rolled her brilliant red eyes. " Seriously, Glen, how many times have we been over this? Don't sneak around me when I've just been on a mission." With her arms now crossed over her chest, Normandy looked down at the snow and muttered, " You're lucky the snow muffled your steps; I misjudged my toss. A few more inches and that dagger'd be embedded in your heart."

Glen nodded. " Yeah, and then where'd you be?" He turned back to the sai, grasped the handle, yanked it out, and tossed it at the thirteen-year-old.

Without even looking, Normandy caught the sai between the index and middle fingers of her right hand, each finger on either side of the center blade. She then whipped the weapon around, the blade singing as it sliced the air. Catching the sai by the handle, she gracefully and expertly replaced it in the ribbing of her suit. She turned away. " What're you doin' following me anyway, Glen?" she asked, heading back in the previous direction she'd been going. " What, did you follow me to Culpeper's place?"

Glen, who had previously been examining the damage inflicted to his coat, now followed after the gold and silver-streaked haired super-soldier. " Yes and no," he answered.

" 'Yes and no'?" Normandy repeated him, arching an eyebrow. " What the hell does that even mean?"

" Yes, I did follow you," the man explained, " I just didn't follow you all the way. I stopped about five miles away from the estate." Glen snorted. " You'd think that if he was in hiding, he'd choose something like an underground bunker or something to hide in instead of a fancy-shmancy place like that."

Normandy sighed. " Yeah, well, Culpeper was vain. He was never one for downplaying what he had. But for the record, though, that mansion was awful plain and more down-stated than the rest of his estates." The girl chuckled. " And now it's a pile of ashes." There was a self-pleased tone in her voice and a smirk on her lips.

" Yeah, along with everybody else in the house along with Culpeper," Glen muttered.

The smirk immediately melted from Normandy's face, as did the sanctimonious feeling in her chest. She stopped walking. Her head lowered so that her bangs and hair hid her face. A few sudden tears bit her eyes. " You got somethin' you wanna say to me?" she inquired, voice almost a growl. She didn't like to discuss what she did, leastwise of all with the person who set up these missions.

" Don't I usually?"  
>" For the love of God, Glen, spit it out already."<p>

" All right then, here it is. Quite a body count on this one, Norm," once again, Glen's baritone voice had become soft and quiet. " Culpeper was the only one on Dark's payrole."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Normandy bit her lip and closed her eyes tight to keep the tears from falling. She hated this talk. She endured after almost every assassination, and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to take it. It certainly didn't help that these last few missions had been riddled with numerous additive slayings of bodyguards—people innocent as to the actions of their employers. But Normandy had a method for writing the extra blood off, and she used it for her reply now. " They were working for Culpeper, that makes them Dark by extension; it had to be done." And with that, she strode out again. She'd just crested a small ridge when Glen suddenly grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.

" Was it?" the man prodded, giving her a look that demanded an answer.

The girl simply responded by giving him a hard look.

Glen quickly released her arm. He held his hands up in a surrendering position and backed off. " Okay."

Sighing again, Normandy closed her eyes and turned away. Then she put to use another strategy to try and push away the guilt. " Anyway," she breathed after a minute, opening her eyes and stepping out again, " it was all in self-defense. They were gonna kill me."

Glen rushed after her. Dang, this kid was fast! " Right," he agreed as they trekked the last few yards to the small, secluded cabin they'd rented for the month. " Speaking of killing," he continued as they mounted the steps to the front door, " I've got another hit lined up for you."

" No," Normandy retorted with a shake of her head as she opened the cabin door.

" 'No'?" Glen repeated in disbelief. " What do you mean, 'no'?" He stepped inside and closed the door.

" Just by what I mean," Normandy answered as she stripped off her boots. " No."

" But, Norm..."

" I'm tired, Glen," the girl sighed, knowing he'd keep goading her until she gave him a reason. Sometimes he was so much like a little kid! Groaning, she set her boots off to the side, stood, and met his eyes as she began to take off her jacket. " I'm tired, and I need a break." She let her jacket drop and unzipped her black leather and spandex body-suit. Once it was unzipped, she slipped her arms out of it and let it pool on the floor, leaving her in only her socks, spandex shorts, and army green tank-top. The teen stepped out of it. Bending down to pick both it and the jacket up, she folded them over her arm and headed down the hall to her room. " We have this place for two more weeks," she stated. " Let's just relax. Take a vacation. Lord knows we need it—well, _**I **_do anyway. I'm the one who does all the work. You just get the information and set up the means of getting to the location.

Finishing undressing from his outer-wear, Glen followed her down the hall. " And you don't think that's as stressful as what you do?" he teased.

The girl snorted. " Puh-lease!" she exclaimed. She turned to open the door to her room when suddenly a large hand reached out and grabbed the knob before she could. She looked up to meet Glen's green-gray eyes. Oh, no. She knew that look. That soft, gentle, looking-deep-into-her-soul—or more like _**lack**_ of soul in her case—look.

" I'm just saying it's a _**big**_ one this time, Norm," the man whispered.

" It always is, Glen," the girl moaned, rolling her eyes.

" I mean it this time. This could knock the whole foundation on its..."

" Uncle!"

The man shut up. Giving a defeated nod, he turned away and headed back off down the hall.

Leaning against the door post, Normandy lowered her eyes to the floor. She fidgeted. She was tired—beyond that actually; she was _**exhausted**_. She desperately needed a holiday... but if what her uncle said was true... " Who is it?" she called, not looking up. " Just... tell me."  
>Her uncle stopped and turned. " The head honcho herself," he answered.<p>

" Lara Goodman," Normandy whispered, hate-beyond-hate tight in her voice.

" The one and only."

The thirteen-year-old's jaw and fists clenched. Of every person with Dark, Lara Goodman was the one she absolutely despised the most. It was she who was behind everything Dark did. It was she who had ordered Normandy's enhancement—turning her into a monster and weapon. It was she who had ordered the death of the girl's parents. For as long as she could remember, Normandy had made a solemn vow to see to it personally that that witch of a woman would rot in hell. And now here was her chance.

Glen waited as his niece thought it over. When she said nothing for a long time he shrugged and said, " Ah, forget it, sweetheart. We can always get her another time."

Normandy shook her head. " There may very well not be another time," she replied. " That snake hardly ever leaves her hole, and when she does, it's nearly impossible to track her down."

Her uncle nodded in agreement. " You're right," he sighed. Then he walked back towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, causing the child to look up and meet his gaze once more. Again he stared deep into those red eyes. " This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Normandy."

After gazing into his eyes for a moment, the girl looked away again. " Where is she?" she asked after a few seconds.

" Southern California."

" We'd take off tomorrow?"

" First thing in the morning."

Carefully, Normandy thought it over, weighing the pros and cons. Finally she nodded. " Set it up." With that, she walked into her room and closed the door behind her.

* * *

><p>FLAG Headquarters in Southern California;<p>

" Okay, KITT," Debra Knight grunted as she slid out from beneath the black '82 Pontiac Trans Am, " that about does it I think." She stood up and brushed a strand of wavy brown-blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail out of her sky blue eyes. The twenty-year-old woman was the eldest daughter of Michael and Bonnie Knight. Like her mother before her, she had chosen the career of being a cybernetic technician—KITT's cybernetic technician to be exact.

" Excellent work, Debra," KITT's smooth, gentle voice rose up from the car. The scarlet scanner on the prow of the Trans Am whooshed back and forth at a quick, happy pace. " I've never felt better. You have most definitely inherited your mother's steady and deft hands."

The young woman smiled at him. " Why thank you, KITT," she laughed. Picking up a grease rag, she began to wipe off her smudged and dirty face. She'd just spent the last hour and half washing, fixing, recalibrating, detailing, and all-in-all fine-tuning the AI and his car form from the last mission he and her father had been on. As usual, the mission and Michael had left KITT pretty beaten and dirtied up, and since Bonnie had retired from mechanic work and moved higher up on the FLAG chain of command (she held somewhat of a director position now) it was Debra's job to get KITT back in tip-top running condition. Well, her's and Zoe Chae's, but lately the young Asian woman had been working on the Knight Industries Three Thousand: a modified black Ford Shelby GT500KR Mustang that would be KITT's new body once Mike took over the Knight Rider position.

Michael Knight Jr.—Debra's older brother and eldest of all the Knight children—would be taking over the position as KITT's partner from their father in a little over a week. Well, technically he'd take over the position tomorrow night at the foundation retirement banquet they were holding for their father, but it wouldn't be until next week sometime when Mike would finish his training and the Knight Three Thousand would be up and running. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with KITT's old shell, it's just that Mike liked Mustangs better. So the AI was to be transferred.

Nobody had asked KITT what he thought of it, and he wouldn't say otherwise what he thought, but deep down inside his silicon shell, the AI was feeling something that could be considered sad at the prospect of leaving his old body. He'd grown fond of his Trans Am housing over the years, and he liked how sleek and unique it was. There weren't many other cars of that make being driven around anymore. But of course, KITT would never complain. This came as part of the territory, part of the job, and he'd endure it. Besides, he was sure that soon enough his new body would start to feel like home too... even if it would never be quite the same. Until then, however, the AI would make the most of his last few days inside his old body.

" How is your father taking the idea of a retirement banquet?" KITT questioned Debra as she began to clean up her tools and work area. His old partner hadn't mentioned anything of the concept to him.

" Oh, you know, Dad," Debra replied with a wolfish grin. " Doesn't want to retire, and can't understand why anybody would wanna throw a banquet to celebrate a retirement."

" That sounds like Michael, all right," KITT chuckled.

" But, even though he doesn't say it or act like it," Debra added, " I think deep down, Dad's touched that people would be willing to do this for him."

Suddenly the sound of an opening door drew both the woman and the AI's attention. They turned their attention up to the catwalk to see Mike coming down the steps. Debra laughed. " Well, speak of the devil," she said, standing up and going to her brother. " If you're down here to try and sneak another peek at your car, forget it," she told him, perching her fists on her hips and giving him a playful smirk. " You're not gonna see it until it's finished."

Mike grinned (he most definitely had his father's grin) and laughed at his younger sister. " Don't worry," he assured her with a shake of his head. " I learned my lesson last time."

Debra gave him a quizzical look.

" What happened last time?"

" Zoe took a baseball bat to me," Mike admitted, blushing slightly.

Debra busted out laughing. " Yup," she nodded. " I can see that happening."

" Anyway," Mike went on. " I actually came down here to talk to KITT."

Debra's eyes slightly widened in surprise. It's not that it was _**unusual**_ for her brother to speak with KITT, but it's just that Mike would usually spend his free-time with Sarah Graiman—his girlfriend who was a scientist (of sorts) for the Foundation. She was also a very good friend of Debra's. And besides, didn't Mike have a speech that he had to write and practice for the banquet? " Oh," Debra replied, still looking stupefied. " Do you want me to leave then?"

" No," Mike answered, putting his hands on her shoulders. " No, Deb, you can stay." He sighed heavily. " You should probably hear this too anyway."

His sister's expression shifted from one of surprise to one of worry and suspicion. " Uh-oh," she murmured. She pulled out a stool and sat down, arms crossed over her chest. " This can't be good."

* * *

><p><span>Russia;<span>

Normandy leaned over the bathtub and turned off the water. Slipping out of her lavender bathrobe, the thirteen-year-old stepped into the tub and slipped down into the water. She gasped sharply and gritted her teeth, grimacing. The water was hot; as hot as she could force herself to stand, and that was just short of scalding. Of course, thanks to her enhancement, scalding temperatures for her were much hotter than for normal humans. Any normal human who sank down into a tub containing as hot of water as this one did would've received third degree burns. That wouldn't happen to Normandy—she'd just come out with rosy-tinted, steaming, tender skin—it was still hard on the nerves. However, as always, the child welcomed it. Feeling physical pain was a hell of a lot better than feeling that emotional, painful void that had plagued her day in and day out for the last three years. It was better than feeling numb. It was better than feeling the guilt...

" _No!_" Normandy told herself firmly. " _Enough! All of those bodyguards worked for Dark directors. They were getting paid with Dark money, and they were going to kill you. They deserved what they got._" Even as she told herself this for the millionth time, the teenager knew the words were falling on deaf ears... or _**heart**_, as it were. She would never believe them. Not for as long as she lived.

Sighing heavily, Normandy laid back against the back of the tub, reveling, in the pain. Truth be told, she used to cut exclusively. But cutting alone wasn't enough, and, in all honesty, she got enough of blood as it was. Besides, she hated her blood. As far as that went, she hated nearly everything about herself, and she didn't see how anyone else could love her. But she would never take the easy way out—at least not yet. She still had unfinished business... with Dark. More specifically: with Lara Goodman.

But that was for another day. Right now, all Normandy wanted to do was try and relax. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and slipped below the water. Inside her head, she began counting. " One minute... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight..." Her lungs started to ache. " Nine... ten... eleven... twelve..." Her lungs were on fire; the veins in her neck started popping out. " Thirteen... fourteen... fifteen... sixteen..." She needed air—_**now! **_Breaking through the water's surface, Normandy came up gasping and sputtering and coughing. Her head throbbed; her heart pounded. Damn, only sixteen minutes—it wasn't good enough! She was still too weak! Breathing deeply, the girl pushed her hair back out of her face, then looked at her arms. Pinkish-red: time to get out. Groaning, the child grasped the sides of the bath and pulled herself up, her joints—despite how young and limber they were—creaking, cracking, and groaning. Grabbing the towel she'd set out, she proceeded to dry off: torso, appendages, hair. When she was finished, she threw the towel in the hamper and pulled her robe back on, tying it securely around her as she let the water out of the bath and strode across the bathroom to the door. For a split second she looked up and her eye caught on the fogged up mirror of the medicine cabinet. She froze in her tracks.

Several long minutes followed where she simply continued to stare at the rectangular reflecting surface, and then she finally moved towards it. She hesitantly reached out with a hand and wiped the steam away from the surface. Her reflection stared back out at her. For a long time she stood there, examining herself. Long golden hair streaked with silver and silver bangs tipped in gold—a result of her enhancement. Long-lashed red eyes—also a result of the procedure. An unblemished face that was slightly roundish and hadn't known the touch of make-up in all her thirteen years of life. A button nose. Higher set cheekbones. Lips that weren't excessively large and wide, but weren't really small and thin either. Most folk would have said she had an attractive face, but Normandy saw nothing attractive about it. All she saw when she looked in a mirror was a cold, empty, broken, blood-thirsty monster. That's all she was. That's all she was ever going to be. A single tear trickled down her cheek before she wiped it away and turned away from the mirror to walk out of the room. A monster. She would forever be a monster.

* * *

><p>Southern California;<p>

" What'd'ya mean you're not gonna be the new Knight Rider?!" Debra practically screeched.

KITT sat there in stunned silence. He had never suspected this to happen, and it was safe to say that the news had cut him to the quick.

Mike grimaced and all but slapped his hands over his sister's mouth. " Deb, please!" he begged. " Not so loud."

Debra rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips... despite how awkward that was while sitting on a stool, but lowered her voice anyway as she went on. " But, Mike, you've wanted this your whole life," she pointed out. " Ever since we were kids all you've ever talked about was growing up to become the new Rider and driving KITT around and thrashing bad guys. What happened?"

Mike suddenly diverted his eyes to the floor and shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket. " I..." he stammered, "... I..." he mumbled something that not even KITT could pick up.

" What?" Debra asked.

" I'm afraid you will have to speak up, Mike," KITT proclaimed at the same time.

" I... got engaged."

There was a long period of dead silence. A _**very **_long period. Finally Deb and KITT snapped out of it.

" Congratulations, Mike!" KITT exclaimed, sounding genuinely happy for the young man.

" That's so amazing!" Debra squealed. She leaped up and threw her arms around her brother's neck and caught him in a tight embrace. " I'm so happy for you and Sarah!" Suddenly she loosened her grip and pulled away slightly, giving him a careful look. " It _**is**_ Sarah, right?" she asked, warning in her voice.

Mike chuckled. " Yes," he assured her. " It's Sarah."

Grinning even wider, Debra threw her arms around him again. " That's incredible!" After a moment she pulled away from him again. " When did it happen?"

" Last week."

" And you two kept it from us this whole time?!" Debra accused, punching his shoulder.

" We wanted to announce it at the banquet tomorrow night, to everyone."

" That seems reasonable," KITT agreed.

" But what does this have to do with you not wanting to be the new Rider?" Debra prodded.

" Well, a lot actually," Mike answered, moving to sit down on the stool. " Do you remember when we were a lot younger and Mom and Dad almost went through a divorce?"

" Yeah," his sister answered. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms. The idea of her parents splitting up still scared her and gave her goosebumps. " Something to do with his work and him never being home and her never knowing if he would come back or not."

" And he almost didn't a few times," Mike replied.

" That is true," KITT interjected. " Your father and I had many close calls on many of the missions we took." The AI could still recall those times and how he had not only sensed Michael's fear but a sensation inside of him as well that could have been considered fear. They'd always managed to pull through, but sometimes just barely.

" So you don't want to be the Knight Rider anymore because of Sarah?" Debra questioned.

" Not really. Sarah and I have discussed it and she's said she'll support me if I choose to be the Knight Rider anyway. But, I dunno... I'm just not feelin' it anymore, sis. It's got no appeal to me anymore."

" So you simply do not wish to be my partner anymore?" KITT summed it up, trying to keep the dryness out of his voice.

" Somethin' like that," Mike answered.

" Oh," was all the Trans Am had to say.

" Look, KITT, it's not you, it's me," the young man tried to explain.

" Michael, I am not a female you're attempting to break up with," the AI sighed. " I can understand completely why you wouldn't want to live the life your father did. You're engaged to a lovely young woman, and you wish to be married and have a family. I can see that."

" So you don't mind?"

" No, not really."

" Thanks, buddy."

" No trouble at all."

Suddenly Debra was back in her giddy state. " Oh, my gosh!" she squealed like a school girl. " I gotta go congratulate Sarah!" With that, she took her leave and barreled out of the main garage.

" Hey, Deb, wait up!" Mike ran after her.

As soon as the door to the garage banged closed, signaling that they were truly gone, KITT allowed the scanner on his nose to slow down to a gloomy, slow pace. He couldn't deny that he was disheartened by this news. Oh, he was glad for Mike and Sarah, and he was happy that they were planning on starting a new life together, but that still didn't soften the fact that he no longer possessed a partner. There was no one for him to protect or perform missions and fight crime with. He felt left out; pushed aside; even abandoned. Above all he felt useless. What good was he now with no human partner to help him fulfill his programming? What would even happen to him now? Would they retire him, just like they were Michael? He wasn't ready to quit the fight yet; he still had too much left in him to retire. Would they try to find him a new partner? KITT couldn't imagine himself with anybody but Michael or his son, and in all honesty, he was feeling nervous at the thought of being placed with a new partner—someone he didn't know, let alone trust. " _What will happen to me now?_" KITT questioned himself. The AI had never felt so lonely and obsolete in all his time of being online.


	3. Preparation

**I do not own Knight Rider (unfortunately): I only own my OC and any other characters you may not recognize.**

* * *

><p>X-Ray Dog; <em>Screaming Souls<em>

2

Preparation

Seven Years Ago;

The little girl was afraid. Worse; she was terrified. She was nearly naked, except for a black spandex tube top and shorts outfit, and was strapped to a cold, unforgiving grated, metal table, her white-blond hair pulled into a tight, neat pony-tail. Above her was a single, blinding, white, sterile light illuminating only her and a tub of funny smelling, sparkling clear fluid below her, leaving the rest of the room beyond her vision pitch black. She was without her parents, for the first time since she'd gotten sick, in the strange, dark, creepy place with people she didn't know and who were mean. They weren't mean as in hitting her or yelling at her—in fact it was quite the opposite: they said _**nothing**_ to her. Absolutely nothing. They would creep around her without making a noise or saying a word and then they would suddenly appear out of nowhere with stone-cold, hard, mean looking faces, and they would poke her and pinch her with needles. But the child never screamed or cried or whimpered. She was too afraid to.

Unexpectedly, a voice boomed out, startling the girl and causing her to slightly jump, which made the bonds that held her down bite into her tender pale skin. The child bit against the pain, refusing to make a sound. She didn't know what these people would do to her if she made noise.

" We're ready to begin," the voice said. The voice was female, but very deep and sinister sounding with some sort of funny accent that the child had never heard before.

" _Ready to begin what?_" the little girl thought to herself. She was so busy wondering what was going on that she didn't notice the man in the containment suit come into the light until he was right above her, staring down at her through the little window in his suit. The child started at him, and then she got a look at what he was holding. A large syringe with some sort of bubbly blue liquid and an absolutely _**huge **_needle. The little girl stared at that needle for a very long time, her large brown eyes growing even larger. Then she gulped and looked up at the man. She couldn't really see his eyes, but she knew the general location of them and she gave him a pleading look. " Please," she whimpered, speaking for the first time since she'd been separated from her parents, " I want my mommy and daddy."

The man said nothing.

The child tried yet again to appeal to his better nature. " Please?" she repeated, her voice very small and meek. " I want my mommy and daddy. I... I-I-I'm scared."

At that the man replied, " Good. You should be." And with that he practically jammed the needle down into her jugular vein and injected the blue fluid.

The child screamed in both terror and pain as the needle entered her flesh. But then the needle was gone, and half a second later she was encountered with a whole new pain. It was excruciating! It started at the injection site, went up through her head, down into her torso, then into her arms and down through her legs to the very tips of her toes and back again to repeat the cycle. The child thought there was lava pouring through her veins. Every time the serum passed through her heart to be distributed it felt as though it were being torn apart. Her head felt like it would explode! The serum passed through her systems three more times, each time making the pain even more and more unbearable, and then suddenly as soon as it had come it went. The little girl stopped screaming and moaned in relief. Going limp against the table, she heaved and panted as sweat soaked her body, trying to cool her down. All at once her entire body felt funny. Not painful like before but... weird. " I feel..." the child mused, only about half-aware of what she was saying, "... tingly."

" That's it," the woman's voice boomed again, jolting the girl back to reality.

" _What's it?_" the girl asked herself again. She barely even had time to think the question before the grated table jolted and she was suddenly moving downward towards the tub of crystal liquid. The liquid surged up through the openings in the grate, and when it hit her skin the tingling sensation stopped and was immediately replaced by white-hot pain. The girl screamed and wailed again, tears leaping out of her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. She hurt! She didn't like this! She wanted this to stop! She wanted Mommy and Daddy! " **MOMMY!**" the child voiced her desire at the very top of her lungs. " **DADDY!**" She kept screaming for them, but they didn't come. The child took a deep breath and screamed one more time. " **DAD...**" she was cut off as the funny smelling, burning liquid invaded her mouth.

The liquid was all around her now. It was in her mouth and throat; in her nose; in her eyes and ears; in every crevice of her small frame that it could reach. It stung and burn and bit like no other.

Beneath the devil-fluid the child screamed with all her might. Her lungs burned from both the liquid and the lack of air. She couldn't take this anymore! She wanted out! She _**needed **_out!

* * *

><p>Present Day in Southern California;<p>

**[A/N I kind of imagine this part as that part in Daredevil where Elektra is training with the sandbags for her revenge on Daredevil.] **Normandy was in an old, large gymnastics gym. It was part of the abandoned building Glen had decided to set them up in, in order to save money. The building was old, dusty, and falling apart, but the studio was still in decent shape, and, as Normandy had quickly deduced, made an excellent place to workout and train. And that's what she was doing now. Despite the fact it had only been a couple hours since she and her uncle had gotten off the plane after a near twenty-four hour flight back in time, the teenaged assassin had spent that time fashioning the gym into a training room, complete with makeshift dummies and sandbags that would swing down from the ceiling like pendulums (that part of the construction had taken a little assistance from Glen).

With her eyes closed and her gold and silver hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, the thirteen-year-old knelt in the center or the room, waiting, timing, mentally preparing herself for the course. Adrenaline pumped through her system. She was sweating with anticipation, her tight, red spaghetti-strapped tanktop already soaked through at the neck and chest, back, and beneath the armpits. Beneath her black spandex leggings, her leg muscles her taut and ready. Her black and gray specially built athletic shoes gripped at the wood floor beneath her feet, assuring her that they wouldn't allow her to slip. Across her back was sheathed a katana, in a holster at her left hip was a throwing knife, and in her taped up hands were her sai. She held the sai outstretched from her, gripping them in a way where her index, ring, pinkie fingers, and thumb were between and wrapped around the yoku—the symmetrical side guards of the sai—and the monouchi—shaft of the sai—of each dagger. Her middle fingers rested on the side of the center-blade (monouchi). Letting the tips of the sai just barely touch the floor, Normandy smoothly and slowly swooped the daggers out in a half circle around her, starting out in front of her and then sweeping off to the sides. " Three..." she counted quietly, "... two..." her arms were stretched out as far as they would comfortably go on either side of her, "... one." The girl's eyes snapped open, the blood-red irises almost glowing in the dim light. In one fluid motion she flicked her wrists and tossed the sai up and caught them so that she could hold them in a different position, stood, and spun around to face the obstacle course. Her arms were held so that they made an 'X' across the front of her body. Then she began to move into the course, whipping and spinning the sai around as she did, making the blades sings as they whipped through the air. Her face held no emotion except for maybe concentration.

The first thing to come at her was one of the sandbags. It fell down from the ceiling at her left and swung to hit her in the shoulder but quick as a flash she tore one of the daggers through it, ripping out the bottom so that all the white sand spilled out into a pile beneath it on the floor. There was a dummy after that, made out of canvas and insulation, and the girl stabbed through its "heart" and then quickly slit open its "throat". Normandy spun away from the "dead" lump, moved towards another dummy, and quickly moved into a powerful kick. " Hrah!" Her foot meet with the "head" of the dummy, knocking it clean off and sending it flying to a corner of the room. The dummy spun and fell to the floor and the teen hurried away towards the next obstacle. Two more sandbags dropped down on either side of her, and, without even looking, she sliced the bottoms of them out. Then she ran forward towards a challenge that consisted of parallel bars, pummel horse, and balance beam all in successive order.

Normandy reached back and quickly sheathed the sai into their special holder beneath her shirt. " Hup!" Leaping up, the girl seized hold of the lower bar, spun up and over until she was perching on it and then quickly leaped to grab the other one. She spun around that once... twice... three times, before finally releasing and rolling into a forward flip in the air. The assassin came down on her hands on the pummel horse, lowered her weight, and then pushed back up into another flip. Landing perfectly and sturdily upon the balance beam, the child unsheathed her katana and slashed through four more sandbags in the blink of an eye. Then she back-flipped off the beam and landed between two more dummies. She stabbed the first one through the "back" and then whipped around and sliced the next one in half, the slash running from left " shoulder" to right "hip". There was one more dummy behind that one and she ran forward, leaped into the air, and kicked out a leg at it. " Hi-yah!" The dummy went flying back against the wall.

Panting heavily, and sweating even more now, Normandy expertly sheathed her katana. Then the very last part of the obstacle occurred. A single sandbag, bearing a portrait of Lara Goodman with a small black 'X' drawn on her forehead to mark the kill point, swung down. Instinctively, the teenager reached down to the holster at her hip, yanked her throwing knife out, and chucked it at the sandbag. " Rraahh!" The knife whistled through the air before embedding itself in the sandbag at the small 'X'. Perfect throw. A smirk played at Normandy's lips and she chuckled as an evil gleam came to her eyes. " Bullseye."

Suddenly a door banged opened, and the girl whipped around, katana once again out and ready. She looked towards the doors of the gym to see her uncle standing there, looking at her with a serious and grim expression: his game face. Normandy sheathed the katana again. " Glen?" she questioned. She already knew what was happening, but she just wanted to be positive.

The man nodded somberly. " It's time," he said, voice low and grave. " Suit up and let's go." He turned away and disappeared down the hall.

Sighing, Normandy looked back at the sandbag and picture with the knife sticking through it. Striding towards the bad, she ripped the knife out of it, stroking it downward to that the bag tore open, and the picture with it. Then she sheathed the knife back in it's holster. " You better be ready for a fight, Lara," she whispered. " 'Cuz this time, your blood is mine."

* * *

><p>FLAG Headquarters;<p>

Even as KITT sat in the coolness of his hangar, he was busy at working, tapping into the security cameras of the large meeting hall in the Knight Mansion and watching as the many workers of FLAG hustled and bustled around to prepare things for that night's retirement banquet for Michael. He took particular interest in a spot of the room, that was located near the table of honor, that looked like it was being reinforced and situated to accommodate a car. That didn't surprise him, not that he was conceited for anything like that. It only made sense that he would be at the banquet as well, even though he wouldn't be participating in the meal, of course. He was had been Michael's partner after all. The AI felt excited, almost giddy, and the prospects of what tonight would hold. Michael would be honored and served a medal for his work in the field, and he would as well. They would both be honored, though Michael would own more of the spotlight since it was his retirement party, but KITT didn't mind that. He wasn't ready to be decommission yet. Still, it was exciting to be included in something that was usually meant for humans alone.

But then there was also a part of the AI that wasn't quite so happy. He still couldn't quite get over the fact that he, in effect, no longer possessed a partner. The fact had been eating at him since Mike had announced that he no longer planned on inheriting his father's position as the Knight Rider.

KITT couldn't help but wonder and worry. " What is to happen to me?" he voiced the question aloud, even though no one was around to answer him. The AI had never been so confused in his life. He couldn't decide on what to be. Part of him was angry with Michael for retiring, but then he told himself that such a feeling was pointless because it wasn't Michael's fault and he really had no choice in the matter. Besides, he was human, and human aged and lost their effectiveness over a period of time. And KITT couldn't deny seeing the toll the job had taken on his friend over the years. He could see the slight limps in Michael's steps and the twinges in his movements, repercussions from the injuries he had endured on the jobs. Michael was slower now too—physically anyway. His mental capacity was still working well, but that didn't do him much good if he was stoved-up everywhere else.

Then there was another part of KITT that was angry at Mike, but even then, he knew that that was senseless as well. Mike was a young man in love with a young woman—whom KITT rather liked himself—that was in love with him as well. They had their whole lives ahead of them that could be filled with peaceful, happy memories, and the AI couldn't hold that against them. He knew how precious those kinds of memories could be.

And then, of course, there was the ever worried part of the AI that thought on the aspect of getting a new partner. " _I don't even know who would be qualified enough to even come close to FLAG standards_," the Trans Am thought. FLAG standards for the Knight Rider and become far more strenuous since Samantha—niece of Devon Miles—had taken over her late uncle's position as head director of FLAG. Mike himself had just barely met the criteria, and even then he'd had to train for about a year-and-a-half to finally be chosen as the new Knight Rider. KITT wasn't exactly sure how soon he and his new partner (if he got one) would have to get back out in the field, but he guessed that it would have to be fairly soon. So it would have to be somebody who already had training in weaponry and martial arts, as well as possessing a fit body and mind.

Sighing heavily, the AI decided to power-down for a while and recharge his power-packs, as well as his microprocessor. Maybe he'd dream up a solution... figuratively speaking of course. AI's don't dream. Powering down for his catnap, KITT did one thing he never thought he'd find himself doing. He prayed. " Please," he nearly whispered, " if there truly is an infinite, holy deity out there, hear me. Please show me what path I am to take." He was silent for a minute as he thought, and then he added, " In fact, it would be rather considerate and helpful if you could just send a new partner my way."


	4. Merging Destinies

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider. **

* * *

><p>" It'll take a lot more than words and guns. A whole lot more than riches and muscle. The hands of the many must join as one... and together we'll cross the river..." Puscifer; <em>The Humbling River<em>

3

Merging Destinies

FLAG Headquarters;

Michael Knight Sr. stood in front of the mirror, adjusting and readjusting his black tie. His mind wandered. It was actually happening; he was actually retiring. He just couldn't believe. Never in his life had he ever thought this day would come. Of course, he'd always known that he wouldn't be able to be the Knight Rider forever and, in a way, he was relieved to be retiring. But a part of him still felt as though it was just too soon. He still craved the thrill of the fight. He'd gotten hooked on that adrenaline rush that he felt every time he went undercover or finally cornered the bad guy after a long process of flushing them out. Now all that was over. After tonight, he wasn't going to be the Knight Rider anymore. He wasn't going to be KITT's partner anymore. That was the part that worried him the most—not completely knowing what would happen to his best friend and partner. No one had told him anything about what would happen to KITT after her retired. As far as he knew, no one was sure what was going to happen to the AI, period. Yes, they all knew that Mike was in line to become the next Knight Rider, but there were still a lot of variables in there to be considered.

For one thing, the test results from Mike's last physical hadn't come back yet. For another, it was no secret that Mike and Sarah Graiman were deeply in love—as they should be. They'd only being seeing each other for about three and a half years. Everyone was beginning to wonder when they would finally tie the knot.

And that was the other thing. Marriage, in this business, had a habit of never quite working out. Michael had found that out the hard way. Yes, he and Bonny had stayed together, but it had taken a lot of hard work and dedication on both their parts to keep their marriage intact, and,, for it, their bond had grown stronger and deeper (that would explain why they had six children). But this was a new age. Nearly half of all marriages ended in divorce, and nobody wanted to see that happen with Mike and Sarah—Michael especially.

" Having some trouble there?" I warm, loving voice interrupted the man's thoughts.

Pausing in the knotting of his tie, Michael looked into the corner of the mirror. A wide grin parted his lips. He turned around to face his beautifully gorgeous wife who was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His eyes ran over her body.

Even in her later years and after bearing six children into this world, Bonnie had managed to keep her trim, curvacious figure; and even if it wasn't quite as firm and toned as it had once been, she was still a vision of loveliness. Right now, she was wearing a long black dress with a v-neck halter-top, a scarlet knit shrug on her shoulders, and black open-toed shoes with slight heels. Her face was perfectly make-uped and her wavy, graying brown-blonde hair styled in just the right way so that it swooped down over her left shoulder. The dress was rather modest and simple, as was her whole attire, but in Michael's eyes, it all made his wife look like the sexiest and most stunning woman on the planet. Of course she always looked like that in his eyes, but the outfit just made it stick out all the more. The man smiled appreciatively.

Noticing his grin, Bonnie smirked at him. " Like what you see?" she questioned, smoothly, using the voice that she knew Michael loved.

Michael nodded in confirmation as he responded, " You're a vision. You oughta wear dresses more often."

His wife chuckled. " Maybe I will now that you're retired." She pushed off from the door frame and strutted towards him. " Every time I wore them before they always seemed like..." she had reached her husband now and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself close, "... too much a distraction for you."

The man wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer—almost flush against his body. He grinned lovingly down at his woman. " But a good distraction," he pointed out, lowering his head inch by inch.

Their noses brushed and then their lips were upon each other. The couple shared a long, sweet, passionate kiss that clearly exhibited all their love and desire for each—even after all these years and near divorce—within it. Finally they had to pull apart for breath. Even so, they kept their forehead pressed against each others and kept their eyes locked together.

Giggling, Bonnie ran a hand up into her man's burly hair that was starting to gray and thin out. She tangled her fingers in it a gave it a slight tug. " I love you," she breathed the cherished words.

Michael's smile became even warmer—if that was possible. " And I love you," he returned, voice soft and sincere. He bent down to share another kiss with her.

When they pulled apart again, Bonnie turned her attention to the knotted tie at her husband's throat. " Here," she offered, hands falling to it, " let me do that." With quick, deft fingers, she made quick work of the tangle of fabric and soon enough, she was make a perfect, neat Windsor out of it.

Michael sighed and held his hands out to the side in a 'hopeless' position. " Why do I always try to tie it myself?" he asked with another grin. " You're so much better and faster at it!"

Bonnie smiled and laughed. " That's because I've had so much practice over the years." When she was finished with the tie, she placed a kiss on Michael's cheek. " There. Now you're ready."

" Thanks, honey." Michael turned back to the mirror and began to straighten the rest of his suit.

Bonnie retreated over to take a seat on their bed. She sat there in silence, watching as her husband finished dressing, running her eyes over his body. He looked amazing in a suit. After a moment she broke the silence by asking, " So, you ready for retirement?"

Michael released a long sigh and looked over his shoulder at her with a slight smirk. " You just had to ask," he murmured.

Bonnie smiled and shrugged. " I was just wondering. I mean, you've been the Knight Rider for a long time Michael. You had the position nearly a year before I even came into the picture as KITT's technician."

" Yes, and what a long, torturous year that was without you there too," Michael chuckled.

" Michael, I'm serious."

" So am I."

Bonnie then stood and advanced towards her man once again. She put her hands atop his shoulder and rested her chin on them, looking into the mirror and meeting her husband's eyes once more. " Are you going to miss it?"

Michael stared into her eyes for a long time, silent. Then he turned his head and planted a kiss in her hair. " Yes," he whispered, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her close. " I won't lie to you, Bonnie, I am gonna miss it. I'm gonna miss the thrills and the chills of the job. I'm gonna miss workin' with KITT. Oh, he's not always the easiest partner to get along with... but he was my partner, and he is my friend—the best one a guy could ask for." He sighed again, still staring into his wife's eyes through the mirror. " I'm worried about him, Bonnie," he finally confessed. " I'm worried about KITT."

His wife looked away from the mirror up to him in sheer confusion. " Why?" she inquired.

Michael nodded. " I wish I knew," he answered. " I just... I gotta bad feeling about all of this."

" Michael, Mike's going to become KITT's new partner."

" Is he, Bonnie? That's the question."

Bonnie opened her mouth to protest but then decided against it. She knew what her husband was getting at and he knew he was right to worry. She was worried too. Just like Michael and everybody else, she could see how much Mike and Sarah cared for each other—so much so that they would more than likely be married soon. And also like her husband, she knew all-too-well how hard marriage in this business was. She knew the reasonable doubt where Mike as the new Knight Rider was concerned.

Yes, Mike had always talked about wanting to take over his father's position... but that had been years ago when he was younger and not in love. If Mike didn't want to become the new Knight Rider and wanted to marry Sarah instead, Bonnie wouldn't hold it against him. But still, that left poor KITT out in the cold—without a partner.

" It's gonna be okay, my love," she tried to reassure her husband. " Everything's going to be okay."

Michael sighed and hugged Bonnie even closer. " I hope you're right, babe," he sighed. " I hope you're right."

* * *

><p>Southern California Dark Facility;<p>

Normandy lay silent on the ground on top of the hill, looking down into the valley below. She was completely shielded from sight by the foliage and rocks and her leather-bound, athletically designed bodysuit kept her warm in the cool night air. Her katana was sheathed at her back, her sais in the special ribbing of her suit, her dagger in her hip holster, and her handgun in a holster at her other hip. With her sharp eyes piercing through the darkness, she watched the silent compound below her. Every muscle in her body was ready to spring the moment she had to move. She was ready to end all of this.

Suddenly the comm-link in her ear went off and beeped once: Glen's signal that everything was ready. Lifting a hand, the teenager pressed the transmit on her button twice in quick succession, letting him know that she got the message. Then the girl stood and leaped over the embankment and hastened towards the compound. A few minutes later she was leaping over the tall fence, landing unnoticed on the other side, and sprinting for the door she and her uncle had planned to meet at. Once she reached it, she quickly took out the watchman that was standing guard beside it by snapping his neck, and then she pressed herself against the wall. She reached to her comm-link and quickly transmitted twice once again. Seconds later the door was opening and Glen appeared. " I thought the signal meant you took out _**all **_the guards," Normandy hissed, motioning to the dead guard by tapping him in the ribs with the toe of her boot.

Glen just looked at the body through the goggles of his helmet. " Hmm," he hummed after a moment. " He must've come here after I got in."

His niece rolled her eyes and hurried in through the door. " So, where exactly is she?" she whispered, cautiously looking around. Rule number one of being an assassin: always be aware.

" In a meeting," Glen answered, " at the very center of the compound. The room's heavily guarded—that's why there were so few guards to go through to get in here."

" How many?"

" Oh, 'bout a hundred I'd say; a squad's posted at every door. So going through the door isn't an option."

" It never was."

" So how to you plan to get inside?"

Normandy looked up at her uncle with a devilish smirk. " Who ever said anything about going inside?" she questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Glen gave her a cautious look. " What are you talkin' about?" he ventured the question, his voice uneasy.

Normandy's smirk grew bigger.

" Norm, what are you planning?"

Reaching back into a compartment of her utility belt, the gold and silver-streaked haired girl pulled out a small disc-bomb.

Glen looked from the bomb back up to Normandy's face, meeting her eyes yet again. He shook his head and gave her a look. " You wouldn't dare..."

The girl's smirk only became more pronounced. " Oh, wouldn't I?"

* * *

><p>FLAG Headquarters;<p>

KITT sat up on the small, reinforced pedestal that had been rigged up for him in the meeting hall. He remained silent as he scanned the room, watching as the nearly two hundred people partook in the banquet feast and chatted. Some of the conversations were about important matters; others were just small talk or people catching up. Despite all of the activity, however, KITT still couldn't take his microprocessor of the thought that had been plaguing him for the past day and a half. _**He had no partner**_. The AI dreaded the speech Mike would give—hearing the news once had been sufficiently bad enough; a second announcement would only rub it in and make it sting worse.

" Hey, buddy," the sudden voice startled the Trans Am out of his thoughts.

KITT turned his scanners and attention towards the man who was now standing beside him—his old partner and friend: Michael Knight. " Hello, Michael," he greeted back, trying to sound chipper, though he didn't quite pull it off.

Michael frowned. Was it just him, or did KITT sound distracted and even a bit blue. Two things that KITT was most certainly not. " What's the matter, pal?" the man questioned, laying a hand on the car's hood. " You sound like you got somethin' on your mind?"

KITT did have something on his mind—it was true—but he didn't wish to worry his friend with the burden. So he lied instead. " Nothing is wrong, Michael," he fibbed, still not quite managing the chipper tone. " I'm fine—I'm just... taking in the scene. I still find human behavior to be quite fascinating at times."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn't quite convinced that everything was all right with his old partner, but he knew that he'd never get anything out of the AI if KITT didn't want him to, so he decided to leave it and play along. " I hate to tell ya, buddy," he chuckled with a grin, " but, no doesn't matter how long you're online, I don't think you'll ever completely understand us humans." The man smirked. " We're a little bit too superior for your microprocessor."

" On the contrary," KITT snapped back drily, " I believe the reason I may not be able to understand your species is due to the fact that you're all just too _**simple**_ for my microprocessor."

Michael laughed. Yep, that was the KITT he knew! He patted the black Trans Am's hood. " Whatever you say, pal," he chuckled. " Whatever you say."

* * *

><p>Southern California Dark Facility;<p>

Normandy crept down a hall in the direction of the center of the base and Lara Goodman. As always, she was quiet and kept to the shadows. Half of her consciousness she kept on her surroundings, making sure that she was totally alone and that if she did come upon someone she'd be ready. The other half of her mind was going over her plan. The thirteen-year-old had to admit that her idea to sneak into the ventilation shafts in the ceiling of the room and set off bombs to bring the entire roof of the base down atop all of them was rather risky for her and did lack a certain finesse that she had become known for all over the world. But it was better than being shot down by a hundred guards to get through the doors and probably a hundred more once she got past the doors. And besides, she was just wanted to get all of this over with. Who cared if she was killed in the process? She didn't. In fact, as far as the young super-soldier was concerned, if she got caught in the blast and died it would probably be better than living out the rest of her life as a monstrosity.

The girl was so busy thinking all this over that she forgot to keep part of her mind on her surroundings, so she didn't notice the two masked, black-clad men carrying high-powered electrical prods sneaking up on her. That is, she didn't notice them until one of them had buried the business end of one of the sparking devices into her back. " Aaaahhhh!" Normandy screamed and them slumped to the floor with a groan, smoking rising up from the contact point between her shoulder-blades. " Uhh..." The teen was only about half-coherent. She'd forgotten just how much a punch those prods could deliver. Damn! Hearing crackling behind her, the assassin looked back up over her shoulder to see one of the men standing over her, prod raised high over his head and ready to plunge into her backside again. Adrenaline surged into her blood-stream, burning of the daze. " Hu-uh!" She launched herself out of the way just in time, causing the man to sink the prod into the floor. The other came after her and she rolled into a backwards somersault before moving into a couple of back-handsprings and landing on her feet. With a snarl, she slid into a ready position. " Let's dance then, fellas. Hrah!" Lunging forward, the thirteen-year-old planted a hard fist into on of the men's faces, causing him to stumble backward, then quickly spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick at her second opponent. "Yah!"

He crashed into the wall and dropped to the floor, unconscious. The first man shook off his daze and came back at the girl, prod ready. " Huh!" He leaped forward, expecting to make the prongs meet her body, but the teenager slid off to the side out of the way.

With the dangerous end of the prod shoved past her, Normandy grabbed the shaft of the weapon and jerk it up in the air, carrying its handler over with it. She threw him down the hall, relieving him of the electrical prod in the process. Hearing shuffling behind her, the red-eyed girl whipped around, spinning the prod so that it was business-end-up in the process, and jammed it into the lower torso of the guard who had now come to.

" Aaaahhhh!" The man cried out in pain and then stumbled back again, smoke rising from a nasty burn on his abdomen.

Normandy smirked, when suddenly another sharp, shocking pain ripped through her. " Gaahh!" She whipped around to see that the man she'd relieved of the prod was now in possession of a tazer. Granted, it wasn't half as powerful as the electrical prod, but it still hurt like hell. Growling, the girl gripped the prod she held like it was a baseball bat and swung it at her opponent.

The sparking metal prods made contact with his cheek, and the man flew backwards. When he hit the floor again, there was a burn mark across the right side of his face. It wouldn't pain him though. He was dead; his neck had been snapped with the force of the swing.

Huffing, Normandy threw the prod off to the side. " I've had just about enough of this," she rumbled, staring at the dead man. Her ears pricked to more scuffling and crackling behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. The man she'd burned was coming at her again. With another growl, the teen slowly turned around, pulling her gun out of the holster as she did, and then—_**BANG! **_

The man dropped dead in his tracks, a bloody bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

" Like I said," Normandy murmured, voice soft but emotionless, " I've had enough of this." She put her gun back on safety and stuck it back in the holster.

That's when the alarms started blaring.

" Damn it!" Normandy whispered. Quickly wheeling around she sprinted back the way she came down the hall. So much for this mission. Time to grab her uncle and get out while they still could—she'd take Goodman out another day. The teenaged assassin was almost at the end of the hall when suddenly a large metal door slammed down in the opening and locked, blocking her escape. With a gasp, the thirteen-year-old skidded to a stop and cursed under her breath. Trapped! Her ears pricked at the sound of hundreds of running footsteps and she turned to gaze down at the other end of the long hallway. An entire squad of Dark soldiers was already there, guns prepped and ready, the red marker-lights peppering her body. Normandy stood stock-still, face an emotionless mask. For a long moment she simply stared at the guards, noiselessly studying them, carefully calculating every detail and outcome.

The guards in turn waited, fingers at the ready on the trigger.

Then it began.

In the blink of an eye, Normandy had drawn out her gun once more and had fired it.

One of the crouching guards in the first row of the human wall dropped to the floor, screaming in pain, clutching at his knee, which had been blown apart by the bullet. All of the other guards' eyes darted to him. Their eyes had only been taken off the teen for a second, but that was enough to make it a fatal mistake.

Normandy sprinted forward, her super-human speed kicking in. She slightly jumped up, placed her foot atop the helmet of a squatting, unsuspecting guard, and launched herself into the air above the men. " Huh!" Unsheathing her katana, the teen lopped off the heads of half-a-dozen soldiers as she fell back to the floor. Hitting the floor, she rolled into a tuck and roll to get to her feet. Whipping around, she sliced down another six soldiers before they could re-aim and fire their guns, and then she began ducking, dodging, diving, and weaving as the remainder of the Dark lackeys began to shoot at her. Spinning out of the way one direction, the girl caused some of the soldiers to shoot their partners by mistake. When she spun the other way, she caused it to happen again. Then she pulled out her gun against and began to shoot and slash in sequence, taking out soldier after soldier. By the time the entire squad was killed, she was barely breaking a sweat.

Face still cold and distant, Normandy spun her katana and then expertly slid it back into the sheath at her back. She was getting ready to replace her gun in the holster when she heard weak groaning and grunting. The girl turned. It was the first soldier she'd shot—the one she'd blown the knee out of. He was pale and loosing lots of blood; he wasn't going to last long. Normandy decided to take him out his misery once and for all. Cocking her gun, the super-soldier stalked in his direction, put her combat boot in his chest to hold him down, and pointed the gun between his eyes. " Any last words?" she asked, voice icy.

" Why..." he forced out after a moment, brown eyes full of pain looking up into hers, "... are you..." he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, "... doing this?"

A slight flicker of uncertainty flashed through the child assassin's face. She lowered the gun to point at the floor. Why was she truly doing this? To avenge her parents? To make sure what happened to her never happened to anyone else? To settle a score? She could only decide on one answer—the same one she'd been saying to herself ever since she began her life of assassinating. " Because I hate Dark," she responded simply.

" Why?"

" Because they turned me into a monster, and... they took my family from me."

" And will this turn you back to normal? Will this bring back your loved ones?" The question were deep and demanding.

For a long time, Normandy was silent as she gazed down into the soldier's eyes. Her face was still void of emotion. Finally, she lifted the gun again, placed it between this eyes, and fired. The shot rang out through the silent halls and the golden bullet case clinked against the floor. " No," she answered.

* * *

><p>FLAG Headquarters;<p>

From his space in the corner of the meeting room by the honor table, KITT watched as Mike made his way to the podium to give his speech for the night... and to break the news. If the AI had possessed human anatomy, he would've been sick to his stomach.

Mike reached the stand and began to adjust the mic. Once it was adjusted he spoke into it. " Hello," he greeted everyone in the room, " and welcome everyone. I can't tell you how much it means for all of us—especially my father—that you're all hear to celebrate his years of service to our country. A round of applause for Michael Knight, everyone!"

A roaring applause sounded up in the room.

From his seat, Michael ever-so-slightly blushed.

Being the only one who could see it, Bonnie smiled and hugged and kissed her husband.

Mike went on. " Now, as you all know," he began, " my father is retiring from the field, and will no longer be the Knight Rider of the FLAG program." He stopped and swallowed hard. Suddenly feeling a bit hot, the young man nervously adjusted his tie and collar, trying to find some relief. " Um..." he stammered after a minute, "... because of this fact, tonight was also meant to be a ceremony where my father would pass off the torch to the next Knight Rider. You all know that to be me." He felt even hotter—his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. " But... um... the truth is..." Mike's eyes drifted over to those of his father and mother, "... I... uh... I don't know who's going to be the new Knight Rider."

There were a few murmurs of confusion from the audience.

Michael and Bonnie exchanged quizzical looks before looking back at their son.

Mike's young brother and sisters all looked at each other in confusion, and Debra and Sarah exchanged a knowing but worried glance before looking back at Mike.

" But," Mike continued, " whoever it is... it's not going to be me."

There were gasps and cries of shock from the audience. People turned to each other, asking their neighbors if they'd heard that right.

Bonnie and Michael stared at their son, speechless.

Sarah then stood, strode to the podium, and linked an arm through that of her fiance's. She gazed into his eyes for a moment before looking out at the crowd. " The reason Mike has decided to decline the position," she explained, " is because we are engaged to be married. We're sorry for the inconvenience and the shock... but things like these tend to function on their own." With that said, the two lovers retreated from the stand and sat back down.

" Well..." Mike whispered, sweat pouring down his face, "... that's over."

* * *

><p>Southern California Dark Facility;<p>

" Normandy!" Glen shouted over the alarms as he saw his niece sprinting in his direction. " Norm, what'd you do?!"

" I'll explain it later," Normandy panted, skidding to a stop beside him. She waited a minute or two to catch her breath, and then she grabbed her uncle's arm and began to tug him toward the exit. " Come on!" she urged him. " We gotta get outta here before-ugh!" Something sharp suddenly jammed into the side of the thirteen-year-old's neck with such force that it made her stumble. " Ah!" The girl reached a hand up and jerked the spike out of her flesh, then proceeded to examine it. It was a dart—a tranquilizer dart! And it was already beginning to take affect. Still holding the object, Normandy turned towards her worried uncle. " Glen?" she moaned, her eyelids becoming heavier by the second. She took a few staggering steps in no particular direction, and put a hand to her head as she shook it to try and clear her thoughts. She couldn't recall Dark tranquilizer ever being this potent. " Glen, I..." she groaned, "... I-I don't feel so good. Whoa..." The child's legs gave out and she collapsed to a heap on the floor. She tried to rise again, just she couldn't find the strength. Everything began to go blurry and unfocused. Normandy tried to searched for her uncle in the fog. " Glen?" she called out, voice weak. " Uncle?"

Her uncle's voice came back to her. " It's gonna be okay, Norm," his voice sounded calm and reassuring. " It's all gonna be okay."

Normandy slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>FLAG Headquarters;<p>

" I cannot believe this!" Samantha Miles, niece of Devon Miles and director of FLAG, raged as she paced back and forth in front of Mike and Sarah. It was about half an hour after Mike and Sarah's announcement, and she had pulled them off to the side in order to have a "civilized discussion" with them. So far the discussion hadn't been so "civilized", since the thirty-eight-year-old had been yelling at them basically the whole time, and it hadn't been much of a discussion either. Samantha had done the talking; the couple couldn't get a word in edge-wise. " You're not going to be the new Knight Rider! You were this close—this close!—to taking over your father's position, and now you don't want it!" The blonde-haired, brown-eyed woman turned to glare at the young man. " You didn't think to inform the board about this?"

" I hadn't officially decided on it until yesterday," Mike explained calmly. In all honesty, he was quite afraid of the British woman. She was rather intense and quick-tempered, especially when areas concerning the Knight Rider field of program were concerned.

" But you didn't even tell us you were even thinking about not becoming the Knight Rider!"

" We didn't want to tell you until he was sure, Samantha," Sarah spoke up. " We all know how you like things to be certain."

" That still doesn't account for the fact of the position that you have put us in," the older woman pointed out, fists on her hips. " Thanks to you two, FLAG is now currently without a Knight Rider, and KITT is currently without a partner. I can only imagine the shock he must be going through at this point."

" He already knew," Mike mumbled, not really wanting to be heard.

" What?" Samantha demanded.

" KITT already knew my decision," Mike repeated, louder this time. " I told him yesterday—him and Debra. They were both in the know."

Samantha stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head ever-so-slightly. " What, is the whole family in mutiny now?"

Suddenly, the door to the private room that they were in opened and Michael and Bonnie stepped through. Bonnie was grinning a mile wide. " Congratulations!" she chirped, holding her arms out to the young couple. She embraced them both. " Oh, I'm so happy for the two of you!" She released her sun, kissed his cheek, and then turned to Sarah. " Now you have to tell me about whatever you have planned so far," she insisted, sitting the young woman down on the sofa again.

Mike stared at his mother in disbelief. What was going on? He'd assumed his parents would be stark-raving mad once he'd spilled the news. Like Samantha! The young man turned back to his father, who was grinning at him. " Dad..." he got out before he was wrapped in a hug from his father.

" Congratulations, son!" Michael laughed jovially, patting his son's back. He pulled back and took Mike's hand up into a hand-shake. " I was beginning to wonder when you'd put a ring on her finger." And Michael was truly happy for his son, and he was happy for gaining a daughter-in-law as well, especially when said daughter-in-law was as nice of a girl as Sarah. But still, in the back of his mind he couldn't but worry. After all, if he was retired and Mike wasn't the Knight Rider, what was to happen to KITT?

* * *

><p>Southern California Dark Facility;<p>

When Normandy finally came to, she still didn't feel quite right. In fact she felt worse now than she had when the tranquilizer first began to kick in. Then, she'd just been groggy and slow. Now, she felt groggy, slow, and just plain sick. Her head throbbed, the injection site where the dart had punctured her burned and itched like no other, he throat felt raw and tight, her stomach felt queasy, and all her muscles just felt like mush under her skin. Besides all that, her ears were ringing, her vision was still in and out of focus, and her strength was sapped. Overall, she felt like crap. " Mmm..." the girl groaned, closing her eyes against the bright light because it only made her head ache worse. " I don't ever remember the tranquilizer having this effect on me before."

" That's because it wasn't just tranquilizer, darling," a heavily-Brazilian accented woman's voice came to her ears.

Normandy snarled, immediately recognizing the voice. " Lara," she rasped, hate poisonous in her voice. Suddenly two men grabbed her arms and harshly jerked her up, making her body ache worse and the world around her to spin. " Ugh! Uhm..." Normandy slumped limp in their grips. With heavy-lidded red eyes, the thirteen-year-old slowly lifted her head up and tried to focus in on the tall woman standing before her.

Lara Goodman was a Brazilian woman of about forty, but, thanks to age altering experiments done by Dark, she looked like she was in her early twenties. She was gorgeous, with thick, long, wavy, ebony black hair that swooped all the way to the small over black, cascading over her shoulders like a silky, black waterfall, and shrouding the left half of her face—effectively hiding a large, ugly looking scar that Normandy had put there herself. She had flawless, light-brown skin, with only a small beauty-mark on her right cheek. Her figure was the most perfect epitome of the 'hourglass' figure. When she smiled, she bared pearly white teeth her almond shaped eyes were dark—almost black—brown and long lashed. As of now, she was dressed in her classic color scheme and dress-code: high-heeled, thigh-high black boots over fishnet stockings, and a black and dark red trench coat. Her lipstick was blood-red, and her eyeshadow was done in the 'smokey-eye' style. To top it all of, she wore black, fashionable gloves.

Normandy bared her teeth. " Lara," she growled weakly. She began to move as if to rise to her feet, but in the end she was just too weak and hung limp again, her head lolling forward. Groaning she shook her head, trying to clear her blurry vision. Suddenly her stomach rolled and she gagged, though she didn't cough anything up. " Wha-what'd you... do to me?" she rasped before gagging again.

" We injected you with a new strain of poison our labs have just perfected," Goodman stated, sauntering forward. " To bio-enhanced beings such as you, darling, if the poison were to be given to you in its pure form, it would be no more deadly to you than poison ivy is to normal humans. But, when it's mixed with tranquilizer, it becomes very deadly." Lara was in front of the girl now, and she knelt down and slipped a hand beneath Normandy's chin. She lifted her head up and sneered at her. " It would kill normal humans within a matter of minutes, but with you, it will be agonizingly slow—taking days." Then she released the child and walked away again towards a large metal table, hands folded behind her back. " However, because I am merciful..."

Normandy snorted at that.

"... I will end your suffering now, darling." The Brazilian turned back around to face the thirteen-year-old, a pistol—Normandy's own pistol (the rest of her arsenal lay upon the table as well)!—in her hand, another evil grin parting her lips. " But not before I take what remains of your family away from you."

Normandy's red eyes widened. " No..." she croaked.

Lara turned her head and ordered, " Bring him in."

A door banged open and two more soldiers came marching into the room, dragging a shackled and blindfolded Glen between them. They stopped about six feet in front of Normandy and directly across from her, and then they yanked the dark bag off of the man's head.

Once the bag was removed, Glen jumped and looked around, eyes wide and wild with terror. He panted heavily and quickly with dear. A gag was over his mouth. Finally his green-gray eyes finally came to rest on Normandy and he slightly struggled and tried to get to her. " Nmhmhmy?"

Tears came to the child's eyes and she slowly shook her head. " Glen..." she choked. She turned to Lara again. " You can't do this," she stated. " I'm the one you want; let him go."

Goodman readied the gun and took a step towards the man. " You're right," she conceded, back to the girl. " It _**is**_ you that I want." The woman looked over her shoulder at Normandy. " But you see, just as your parents, your uncle is of great importance to you, and that, darling, is just as dangerous to me as if you were alive." With that said, she turned towards Glen, raised the gun, and pulled the trigger.

Glen dropped to the floor, his skull blown to smithereens.

Normandy stared in horror at the lifeless, disfigured body of her uncle, tears flowing, unnoticed, down her cheeks. She watched as the river of his blood flowed from his exploded head towards her and pooled around her knees. Her tears dripped into it. Slowly her head began to shake. " No," she whispered.

Lara readied the gun again and came striding in the teen's direction.

" No," Normandy repeated, a little louder this time.

Goodman stopped in front of her and began to raise the gun to take aim once again.

" No!" Normandy screamed. Adrenaline and rage surged into her system, wiping out the effects of the poison and granting her strength. She lunged to her right and took out the legs of that guard, causing him to fall, then she did the same to the man on her left. Then she leaped to her feet. Kicking a foot up she knocked the gun away from Lara and then spun around and barreled, heading straight for the window.

Lara jumped after the gun and retrieved it. Whipping around with a growl she began to fire blindly at the girl, desperate to bring her down.

A burning pain went through Normandy as a bullet ripped through her shoulder and another through her right thigh. One lodged into her abdomen. The pain was unbearable, but the teenager gritted her teeth and pushed through it. She was not going to die today, not while she had Glen to avenge now. She kept for the exit. Before she could think, she was shielding her face against the glass with her arms and launching herself through the window. All too late, she realized that they'd been on the Dark blimp, thousands of feet in the air, and she was free-falling to the earth.

* * *

><p>FLAG Headquarters;<p>

It was after the banquet, and KITT was back in his original spot in the main garage. Despite how late it was, the AI had not yet powered down for the night to recharge his power-packs. On the contrary, he was wide awake, thinking once again over what was going to happen to him. Samantha had assured him that they would find him another partner, but KITT wasn't so sure. He knew just how peculiar and and picky the British woman could be about these matters, and, if she did happen to decide that someone was qualified to be the Knight Rider, it most certainly was not going to be right away. Maybe within the next decade, but not right away. KITT sighed.

Suddenly the sound of a door quietly opening and closing drew his attention. Turning his attention up to the stairs, KITT was surprised to see who his late night visitor was. " Michael," he said, sounding a bit shocked, " what are you doing here at this time of night? I'd assumed that you'd be asleep."

" I'd've thought the same about you," his ex-partner and old friend replied with a smirk. " I couldn't sleep. To much on the brain."

" The situation is mutual," KITT responded.

Sighing, Michael rested a hand on the Trans Am's hood and rubbed it affectionately. " What's say we go for a drive, huh?"

* * *

><p>The two old partners drove on through the night, KITT steering the car as Michael sat back and relaxed, watching the scenery go by. Neither of them spoke, and they enjoyed the quiet. It was a melancholy atmosphere for, though they had always enjoyed their drives together and this one brought back so many memories, they both realized that this could very well be the last time that they would ever go driving together.<p>

Releasing a sigh, Michael turned to look down at the dash. " I'm gonna miss our drives, buddy," he confessed, finally breaking the silence.

" As am I," the AI returned, his triple-bar voice modulator flashing scarlet in the darkness.

There was silence again for a long time before Michael finally ventured the question. " KITT, are you... mad a Mike for not taking the position?"

" Not at all," KITT answered sincerely. " I mean, I was for a little while, but I cannot hold his wanting to be married against him. I was more surprised than anything once I got the announcement."

Michael snorted. " Yeah, tell me about it," he chuckled. " Although, in hindsight, I shoulda seen it coming. I am happy for them, though."

" As am I," his partner agreed.

The man looked from the flashing red bars back up the road. He was just beginning to doze off when suddenly he saw something move in the woods off to the side of the road.

As if to confirm his suspicions, KITT suddenly spoke up. " Michael, I'm detecting signs of life about five yards **[A/N I know KITT typically used the metric system, but I don't understand the metric system so he's not using it in this]** off to the right of us. The life signals are very faint and the subject is a young female... well... according to my scanners, she's nearly human, but not quite human."

Michael raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 'Nearly human, but not quite human'? What the hell did that even mean? His wondering was suddenly cut short as KITT quickly slammed on the brakes as something very human-like come stumbling out onto the road and collapsed right in front of them. Throwing open his door, Michael exited the cab and hurried around to the front of the car. His heart skipped a beat. There, lying crumpled and quivering on the black-top only a couple feet in front of the Trans Am's nose, was a young girl no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. She had long golden hair streaked with silver and silver bangs tipped with gold, and she was dressed in a black, leather body suit. But what the man noticed most was the fact of how pale the child was and how violent her convulsions were.

Quickly kneeling down, Michael gently took the girl into his arms. He flinched when she cried out in obvious pain and that's when he noticed just how bruised and cut up she looked. Laying the girl flat on the road again, the man began to run his fingers over her, examining her for any breaks and fractures—he found several. He also felt something warm and sticky on his fingers. Holding his hands up to the light, Michael was amazed to find blood. He examined the child again. " KITT!" he exclaimed. " KITT, she's been shot!"  
>" According to my scans, Michael," the Trans Am said, " she has three gunshot wounds: one to the left shoulder, one to her right thigh, and one to her abdomen. There are still bullets in her thigh and abdomen." KITT was also quite worried at this point. This was just a child! Who in the world would shoot at a child? And something told KITT that gunshot wounds and broken and fractured bones weren't the only thing ailing this girl. With the way she was sweating and convulsing and with the severity of her temperature, there had to be something in her system that was making her sick.<p>

Michael seemed to be thinking along those lines as well, for suddenly he was pulling a Kleenex out of his pocket, wiping some blood off one of the girl's wounds and coming back to KITT's cab. " Here," he said, slipping inside and placing the sample into the analyzer in the glove box, " run a scan on this."

KITT was already running the scan before his ex-partner could even suggest it. A few seconds later he spoke the results. " Michael, there is a highly toxic, unidentifiable toxin within her system. With the toxicity level of this particular serum, I'm astonished that's she still alive. She should be dead, as we speak!"

Out in front, the girl groaned and her body was jarred with a powerful spasm. " Glen," she forced out through clenched teeth. " Glen..."

Michael once again slipped out of the car and went back to the girl. He pulled her up into his arms. " It's okay, sweetie," he crooned soothingly. " It's okay. We're gonna help you."

The child's eyes suddenly opened to half-mast. Michael did a double take and stared in amazement. " Good Lord..." he breathed. " KITT," he quietly exclaimed, " she's got red eyes!"

" I see, Michael," KITT replied, just as amazed. This girl was quite astounding and mysterious.

" It's gonna be okay, kiddo," Michael reiterated. " It's gonna be okay. We got you now."

* * *

><p>Normandy opened her eyes at the sound of a strange voice mumbling in her ear. She was met with the face of man. Normally, if she had been in such a situation, she would've either knocked the guy out or snapped his neck. Of course, in her current status, she wasn't about to do that now. She wasn't even thinking about that. All she could register was the excruciating pain and sickness within her body. All she could think was about... " Glen..." she rasped once more.<p>

" It's gonna be okay, kiddo," the man above her murmured, though she could barely understand what he was saying. " It's gonna be okay. We got you now."

The girl gasped sharply, screwed her eyes shut, and gritted her teeth as another painful convulsion quaked her frame. This was the very definition of living hell! Her head rolled off to the side and she opened her eyes again, and this time, she could herself staring into a beam of scarlet light that whooshed smoothly to and fro from left to right. A soft 'whoosh-whoosh' noise whispered along with the scanner as it moved accordingly. Normandy became fascinated by it, focusing in on it, and, as crazy as if sounds, it almost felt as though that light was looking right into her soul. The world started to spin and everything began to go black. The thirteen-year-old faded out of consciousness, the center of her vision fixed on that swaying scarlet beam.


	5. His Voice

**I know that this is really short, but this is the last of the chapters I had completely planned for this story, and... well, I figured I might as well post something up before I put this story on temp. hiatus for certain reason. Don't worry, I will be coming back to this, just not right away.**

**Anyway, enjoy the bit of fluffiness in this chapter. X3**

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider. **

* * *

><p>" I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain. I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice that always is calling you. I am the voice! I am the voice of the past that will always be. I am the voice of your hunger and pain. I am the voice of the future. I am the voice. I am the voice. I am the voice. I am the voice...!" Celtic Woman;<em> The Voice<em>

4

His Voice

It was utter chaos in the infirmary at FLAG headquarters. Doctors and nurses were running every which way, either to grab requested supplies or to take the places of those that got knocked unconscious by the delirious, tortured, deathly sick girl lying on the bed. The noise in the room was louder than thunder as the child screamed out in both pain and horror and as the medics working on her spouted off orders at the tops of their lungs. " We need another person over here!" " Hold her down! Try to strap her arm down!" " We need the anesthesia! Where the hell is it?!" " Damn it! Watch her fists! Watch her fists!" A male nurse went flying away from the bed and hit the wall before slumping to the floor unconscious and possessing a broken jaw.

In the midst of the medics, Normandy lay upon the bed, struggling with all her might against them. She was a mess. Sweat completely drenched her body; it dulled her golden and silver locks and soaked the sheets of the bed beneath her. Foam frothed at her mouth and she kept choking on her saliva. Her red eyes were wide and bloodshot, tears streaming from them, and her entire body quivered and writhed and strained as she fought. She couldn't see the people around her and she could hear nothing but her own heart racing dangerously fast in her ears and her screams. Images of her uncle's lifeless body, his head blown to bits, flashed through her memory and were all she could see and think. " Glen!" she shrieked, fighting against the strange bonds that were holding her. " Glen, no!"

Suddenly Lara Goodman appeared before her. The woman was smiling evilly and was holding a pistol level with Normandy's eyes. " Say 'goodbye' child," she declared and began to pull the trigger.

" No!" Normandy kicked a foot up and hit something hard and square, knocking it away. " No! Get away from me! **GET AWAY FROM ME! GLEN! UNCLE!**" It was then that the child began to sob uncontrollably as she cried out.

" Her pulse is dangerously high!" a nurse reported. " We need to get her calmed down and stabilized! Where's that anesthesia?!

" I don't know what good anesthesia will do if we can't keep her still long enough to give it to her!" another nurses shouted out. " She's too strong!"

" We have to do something!" a doctor replied.

" Like what?" another man asked.

Out in the main hangar, KITT was watching the whole scene. The AI had hacked into the security system and had been watching the entire time through the security camera in the room. Ever since finding the girl, he had been curious about her as well as worried for her. He wasn't sure why, but in some way, he felt... drawn to her... like they were somehow connected.

As he continued to watch, KITT became even more and more sympathetic to the girl's case and could practically feel her agony as he watched her thrash and scream. The AI began to feel frustrated. He was programmed specifically to help people and, right now, there was a child in absolute torment, who needed help, in his very home, and he was doing nothing! KITT decided that he couldn't just sit by and watch—he had to do _**something**_! The question was: what?

Sighing heavily, the AI scanned over his files and the internet to see if he could find anything that might help in the situation. He soon came to the conclusion that he would find nothing there, so he tried a different tactic. Taking a cue from his old partner, KITT decided to "play it by ear". When he finally came to a decision of what to do, the AI began to put his plan into action. He wasn't entirely sure if this was going to work, but he had a good and strange feeling that it would. Besides, it couldn't be any worse than what they were already trying to do. Patching into the intercom system in the infirmary, the AI began to play soft soothing music over the intercom. And then he began to speak. " It's all right, child," he crooned softly and smoothly. " Hush, now, it's all right. You're safe here. We will not harm you."

The people in the room all looked up at the intercom in amazment. Were their ears playing tricks on them, or was that really the AI speaking over the PA system?

" Is that really KITT?" of the of the doctors questioned.

Upon first hearing the music, Normandy had begun to quiet and listen, and now that there was a voice she began to focus in on that. In her delirium, she wasn't sure where or who the voice was coming from, but she did know that wherever and whoever it was, it made her feel oddly safe and warm. As she listened to the gentle, soothing, easy-listening-to voice, the thirteen-year-old's struggles all but stopped. Her pulse began to slow down. The taut muscles in her body began to relax and her respiration rate began to even out. She'd heard the doctor say something, and, even though the word made absolutely no sense to her and she had no idea what she was saying, she latched onto it. " KITT?" she whimpered the mysterious word. " KITT?"

Having got her attention, KITT smiled to himself inside his silicon shell. Good, she was calming down. Now he just had to keep talking to her while the doctors did their job. " Shh," he soothed again gently. " Shh, it's all right, little one. You're safe here, I promise you. No one will hurt you here."

Normandy released a sigh and laid back on the bed, eyes closed. " KITT?" she whimpered the word again, perhaps trying to make sense of it in her poisoned state.

KITT couldn't deny the fact that whenever the girl said his name a feeling of happiness and warmth came over him, even though he was aware that she had no idea who he was much less what she was saying. It was quite strange, considering he was an AI and, by definition, was not truly meant to have feelings. But, somehow... for this girl he did feel something. He felt the unbearable urge to take this child into his protection and safeguard her, to let her know that she was safe and that she was... KITT wasn't sure what else he wanted her to know, but he knew he somehow needed to let her know it. Right now, however, all he could settle for was to continue soothing her. " Hush, it's all right. Everything is going to be all right. Trust me."

KITT watched and continued to talk as the doctors successfully administered the anesthesia to the girl and got her stabilized. Then he watched as one of the doctors turned to the security camera and gave him a thumbs up. He allowed the scanner on the prow of the Trans Am to sway to-and-fro at a happy, pleased pace, but even then the AI kept his attention on the now sleeping child. For the rest of the night KITT kept a vigil over the girl, making sure that everything was all right, calming her when she began to whimper from a nightmare or pain and contacting one of the medical staff when the latter occurred.

And inside the infirmary, Normandy slept under the power of the drugs. But even they couldn't stop her mind from dreaming about that warm and inviting voice that would speak to her ever so often. Not even the drugs could prevent her from dreaming of her invisible guardian angel. 


	6. A Connection

** Another short chapter after such a long wait, and I'm so sorry! Life is hectic and you should never have six fanfictions going on while it is. 'Nuff said. Also, I've suffered from some writer's-block, so I'm sorry if this is crappy. Please, bear with me.**

** Anyway, to all those who have favorited and followed and commented, I love you guys. You all rock!**

** Michelle—Thank you so much. I can't tell you how happy that comment made me. :)**

** Guest (whoever you are)—All will be revealed, trust me. And sorry for make you wait so long. **

** Now, onto the story! *jumps into KITT* Let's ride, buddy! *squeals off and turbo boosts over wall***

** Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider. **

* * *

><p>" Midnight workings weather down the story line. Try to find the truth between all the lies. When bleeding is feeling and feeling ain't real. Will I see you when I open my eyes? Will I see you when I open my eyes…?" Megan McCauley; <em>Wonder<em>

5

A Connection

Six weeks. That was how long Normandy was a unconsciousness. With KITT's help, the scientists and lab technicians of FLAG had been able to identify the key components of the toxin running through her system and create an antidote. Unfortunately, because the poison was still very unknown, the antidote could only cut the effects of it in half, taking the toxicology level down from 'lethal' to 'dangerous'. Luckily for Normandy, her enhanced biology was better able to withstand the lower level better than a standard human. In all honesty the doctors were quite amazed by both this and the rate at which her wounds were healing. She still remained quite ill, however. She was still pained as well, though no one could tell if it was from physical pain, mental pain, emotional pain, or a mixture of all three.

Normandy was hardly ever alone during those weeks. There was a nearly constant flow of doctors and nurses that went in and out of the room as they checked her vitals, changed her IVs, bandages, gowns, and bedding, administered medicine, and performed other necessary tasks. When the rare case arose that there weren't any doctors or nurses, other curious people of FLAG, including many members of the Knight family, came to see the strange girl and wonder about her identity. And when they weren't there, the girl was under the constant watch of her guardian angel.

Since day one, KITT had stayed his quiet vigil over the comatose child, ever soothing her or alerting the medical staff when need called for it. Like everyone else, he was growing more and more curious of her every day. Who was she? Where had she come from? For KITT there was the additional question of why his scanners labeled her as "humanoid"? And, probably the most alarming and questionable for everyone, why had she been shot and poisoned? KITT had run through his databanks and searched the internet, hoping to find answers to these wonders, but he always came up short. Her face didn't match any he'd cross-referenced them with, and it shouldn't have been too hard to identify her. I mean, how many young, teenage girls were there that possessed red eyes and gold-and-silver streaked hair?

The inquisitions were endless, but no answers could be supplied. At least, not until the girl awoke... assuming she ever awoke at all.

* * *

><p>Normandy's nightmare was always the same thing. She was behind bars in an impenetrable cell that was so black she couldn't see her hand in front of her face with a blindingly white room stretching out on the other side of the barrier. In the white room was her uncle. He was being held between two Dark soldiers and was forced to kneel on the floor between them. Before him stood Lara Goodman, her hand gun leveled between his eyes, her finger ready on the trigger.<p>

Inside the cell, Normandy was ballistic: screaming, cursing, begging, pleading, throwing herself against the walls, wrenching at the bars. Trying to break free. Trying to get to her uncle—the last member of her family—the last person she loved. Trying to save him. But she could never get out of the wretched cell—she wasn't strong enough—and she was forced to watch as Lara blew Glenn's head right off his shoulders and he was dropped to the floor, lifeless and disfigured. And as the girl knelt there in the cell, tears cascading down her face and dripping into the river of blood that flowed across the spotless white floor and into her cell, sobs wracking her frame, eyes glued to her uncle's dead body, the sensations of sheer helplessness and despair and desolation flooded through her. Then, as if someone had hit rewind, the whole ghastly thing would start all over again.

In her comatose state, the thirteen-year-old had no way of breaking out of the terror. She was forced to witness the murder of her uncle day in and day out, 24/7. No rest. No break. At least... not until _**he**_ spoke. When the dream became too much, her guardian angel would come to her. Like benevolent arms, his soothing, warm voice would reach into the nightmare and wrap around her, and, once she was enveloped in his embrace, Normandy was gently lifted out of the cell and guided back out of the horror to a safer place. There she could find peacefulness, if only for a short while.

It was her guardian angel, or KITT as the girl had begun to call him within her subconscious, connecting him with the strange word, that eventually led Normandy back into the land of the living. She being held in the malevolent clutches of yet another nightmare when he returned, his oh-so-familiar voice gently calming her. He began to lead her out of the dream. But this time, instead of letting go of him as he brought her out of terror and into peacefulness, she held onto him tighter, determined to follow him or at least keep him with her. She did not want to be left again. That's when the steady pulsing of a heart monitor reached the child's ears for the first time. Then the pain came. It was dull at first, but the more conscious she became the more it intensified. Finally, it became so strong that a meek groan left the the teenager's lips. Her eyes slowly fluttered open. She was met with the site of three blurry blobs hanging over her head.

" Hey, look," a voice that sounded like that of a young girl, maybe eight or nine, said. " She's wakin' up."

" Should we be standing here?" another girl's voice that sounded a lot like the first asked. " What if she's dangerous?"

" She's been out cold for nearly two months," the first voice replied. " And she's still sick. Even if she was dangerous, I think she'd still be too weak to do much to us. After all, there's three of us and one of her."

" Actually, there's only two of us," the second voice pointed out matter of factually. " Sky doesn't count; she's only three. And you haven't seen the muscles this girl's got. She has a _**six-pack**_! Like Mike's, except, ya know, more girl-like."

" Whoa!"

" Well, if we're not going to get out of here, let's at least get Sky off the bed, in case Jane does wake up."

" Who's Jane?"

" She's Jane. I heard Mom, Daddy, Mike, and Sarah talking about her and they were calling her Jane Doe. It must be her name or something." A weight was lifted off Normandy's middle and she groaned in relief. That's when her vision began to clear up and the fogginess began to receded from her mind. She groaned again a looked around. Where was she? What was this place?

" Hey," one of the girl's voices from just moments before came to her ears again.

Normandy looked down to see three children. Two of them looked the same age and looked exactly alike with brown eyes and curly, dark brown hair. The third looked just about the age of a toddler and had bright blue eyes and a patch of light brown, unruly hair on her head. They were all girls. Looking back and forth between the youngester's, Normandy eventually croaked out a cautious, " Who are you?"

One of the twins grinned and spoke up. " Hi," she chirped. " I'm Baylee, these are my sisters Bindi," she motioned to her look-alike, " and Skylar," she motioned to the toddler. " Who are you?" Baylee returned the question.

Normandy couldn't help the small smile that pulled up a corner of her mouth. These kids were cute. " I'm Norm..." she was cut off as a man in his twenties entered the room. She simply sat there on the bed, staring at him, her eyes and face emotionless.

" Hey, girls," Mike said, smiling down at the children, " there you are. We've been looking all over for you three." Suddenly he felt eyes on him and he looked up to the bed to see two red orbs staring at him with total indifference. So Jane Doe was finally awake! Smiling in a friendly way, the young man moved towards her. " Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he teased her. " Nice to see you're awake. I'm—hey!" Mike was caught off guard as the girl suddenly lunged forward, a murderous look on her face and a rock hard fist at the ready. Before he could think, he was slugged in the eye and sent flying back against the wall, dazed. " Ugh!"

In the blink of an eye, Normandy had leaped out of the bed—ignoring the pain as she tore the IV out of her arm—and was flying down the hall, searching for a way out. Where was she? Had Dark captured her again and were getting ready to torture her? Were they planning more experiments on her? Turn her into a brainless puppet after all? She didn't know this place. It didn't look like one of Dark's laboratories but she could never be sure; she hadn't been in one for a long time and they changed often. All at once and a large male in scrubs appeared out of a doorway off to her right and tried to make a grab for her. Normandy's immediate reaction was to slam her fist square in the center of his chest. He went flying backwards into the room and she continued on. Where was the exit? Not knowing where to go, the golden-and-silver striped haired girl just decided to trust her gut.

After a few more turns and a few more people knocked out of her way, she eventually found herself running towards a set of doors. Bursting through them, she found herself outside. Normandy paused in her tracks and braced her hands on her knees, panting and wheezing heavily as she tried to get her breath back. That was weird. She could run for about two hours with getting winded, but now she already felt like doubling over and she hadn't even been running ten minutes. What the hell? Suddenly, the teenager heard noise coming from behind her inside the building. No doubt they were following her; trying to apprehend her again. She had to get away! Looking frantically around, the girl's eyes eventually found and came to rest upon a door leading into a large building just across the way that was slightly cracked open. From what she could tell, it was quite dark inside. She'd be able to hide easily. As quickly as she could, Normandy sprinted across to the door, slipped inside, and shut it behind her. Trying to slow and quiet her breathing, Normandy backed away from the door, carefully feeling around with her bare feet and hands in the blackness that concealed her. She was safe in here. That's when the thirteen-year-old took another step back, found that there was no floor beneath her foot, and began to fall. Crying out in Alarm, she flailed around for some type of purchase to hold on to. Her hand found something and she gabbed it. The only problem was that, it moved with her instead of stopping her fall right away.

Without warning, there was a loud _**snap-clank!**_ sound. Gasping, Normandy's eyes flashed up to see that what she'd grabbed hold of was a large, red flip-switch. That's when she noticed the reason she'd started to call was because she was on a catwalk with stairs leading downwards and she'd been about ready to step off onto one of the steps. And then she noticed something else. The utter darkness that had enveloped her was not so pitch black anymore; there was light coming from somewhere. Looking around, the girl saw that she was inside some type of hangar, but what was _**in**_ the hangar is what really drew her attention. Normandy gasped in awe.

There, sitting the very middle of the hangar, illuminated by a single ceiling lamp that she had inadvertently turned on, sat a sleek black car. It was a Pontiac Trans Am; the 1982 model by the looks of it. And it was the absolute, most gorgeous thing that Normandy had ever seen in her entire life!

Being an avid car-lover (especially of the more classic models such as this), it was all the thirteen-year-old could do to stop herself from drooling as she slowly descended down the staircase, eyes ever remaining on the car. " Hellooo, beautiful," she whispered in amazement. This was all real, right? She hadn't hit her head in the fall and was now hallucinating? The girl squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head, slapped herself a few times, and then opened her eyes again. Nope, the car was still there; this was real! Oh, she was so completely thunderstruck! She may have loved cars in general but cars of this exact model and make were her absolute favorite! Fate—it just had to be fate. How else could this have happened? Now standing just in front of the nose of the vehicle, Normandy continued to stare in utter wonder. " You," she murmured, eyes running over the frame of the car, " have got to be... the most perfect and breath-taking thing... I've ever seen in my entire life." Slowly, with a trembling hand, the red-eyed super-soldier reached out and tentatively touched the hood, still half-expecting her hand to go through it like an illusion; but her hand rested on it. The metal was cool. And it was smooth. Smoother than a glass mirror and just as reflective; the girl could see her reflection. There was almost a soft quality about it as well. " Baby-skin..." Normandy commented, gently stroking the finish. Keeping her hands on the car, the teen began to slowly move around the car, enjoying the feeling of it on her palms and fingertips. " This is nice."

Little did the girl know was that, as she continued to stroke the vehicle and revel in the smooth softness of its finish, a scarlet beam awoke on the prow of the Trans Am and began to whoosh to-and-fro. KITT quietly watched as the girl he had kept vigil over for several weeks caressed the body of is housing. He smiled to himself. The more he observed this child the more curious about her he became. He also found himself growing more and more fond of her as well. There was just something about her...

Normandy slowly made her way back around to the front of the Trans Am. " What kind of paint-job did they fix you up with?" she asked with a slight smile. " Damn, whoever did it was a genius!" That's when the teenager noticed the swaying beam. Backing up, she stared down into it, watching as it methodically moved left-to-right, evoking memories. " _I've seen that before_," the young super-soldier thought to herself. " _Just before I passed out from the... poison..._" Slowly, Normandy, knelt down until she was at eye-level with the beam and gazed deeper into it. Goosebumps rose up on her arms as she got the sensation that the Pontiac was gazing back at her. Something about this car felt... _**alive**_. The child carefully leaned in closer. " Can... can you... see me?" she dared the question, voice hardly above a whisper.

Inside his silicon shell, the AI chuckled to himself and grinned. " _Yes I can see you_," he replied inwardly. " _And it would appear as though you can see me as well._"

Long, quiet moments past as Normandy and KITT continued to silently stare at one another. Suddenly a door banged open, causing both to startle and turn their attention back up to the catwalk. FLAG guards came surging into the hangar. Before Normandy could move, they'd shot her with tranquilizer darts. Still weak, the teenager just managed to yank the darts out of her body before slumping to the floor, half out of it already. A moan escaped her.

KITT remained quiet as he watched the drama play out, but sympathy for the girl began to well up inside of him. Anger at the guards began to make itself apparent as well, and the AI instantaneously felt guilty for it. They were just doing their job. And, after watching the girl's escape through the security system, he knew that such force was required. Still, he couldn't help how he felt, which confused him even more.

Normandy was just barely holding onto consciousness when the guards finally reached her, picked her up, and began to carry her out of the hangar. They murmured words to her, but she didn't hear them. Not only was she succumbing to the tranquilizer, but she was also too focused on that scarlet beam that was still swaying back and forth. A inebriated smile curled the girl's lips. " _I'll be back_," she silently vowed. Then she passed out.

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><p><strong>*nervous laugh* Sorry for the lack of actual dialogue in this chapter. It just wouldn't come out and I didn't really think the chapter needed it. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. Reviews would be much appreciated. :3 <strong>


	7. Author's Note

Guys, I'm afraid I have some bad news.

I have currently begun college and am taking several classes that require lots of reading and writing. I think my history class will take up the most time because, even though I don't really have too much writing in that class, I have to read quite and bit and then write to book reviews, the first of which is due the 25th of this month, and any of the book choices that that I'm going to have to read are all around 200 some pages. It's excruciating for me to read anything I'm not truly interested in, but it has to be done and I have yet to even decide which book to read. So I don't know when I'll be able to even think about my fanfictions let alone actually write them. Thus, I've decided that I'm going to have to drop writing fanfiction for the time being.

I hate doing this, I've literally cried over the decision because I swore to myself that I wouldn't let college take over my writing time, but I don't see any other option. If I wasn't taking the history class and was just taking the other classes I'm sure I'd still be able to write, but that's not the case. So, until further notice, _**everything**_ is on hiatus.

Will I quit writing completely? No. Absolutely not! I love writing fanfiction and I will comeback to it... it just won't happen right away. I will try to keep a place on all of my websites by corresponding over phone, but the only think I can do there is respond to/submit PMs, so I'll try and keep in touch.  
>Guys, you don't know how much this is killing me. It's like slitting my virtual wrists with a virtual knife. I hate to do it. I don't want to do it. But I don't see any other solution.<p>

Until we meet again.


	8. Trust

**Guys, I am sooooooooooooo sorry it took me so long to update! College sucks! Writer's block does too! But here is another chapter! HUZZAH! However, it isn't the longest one in the world, but at least it's something. Thank God for Christmas break!**

**So not a whole lot happens in this chapter, just that we get to see a little bit more of Normandy's past (why do her parents call her 'Emily'? All will be explained in due time.) and bit of a forming relationship between her and Michael. Her main and closest relationship will eventually be with KITT of course, but she will have a good rapport with Michael too. The category of those relationships are what I'm still figuring out. I can tell you that they won't be romantic because Michael's already married and is WAY too old for Normandy and when it comes to KITT… I just don't do romantic type relationships between OCs and their main male counterparts. Odds are either or will be father-daughter, brother-sister combination of both.**

**No onward!**

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider.**

* * *

><p>Steve Jablonsky; <em>Have Faith Prime<em>

6

Trust

Seven Years Ago;

The little girl slowly cracked her eyes open, only to be instantly blinded by a bright light overhead. Squeezing her eyes shut again, she moaned. Her head really hurt and the light most certainly did not help it at all. Lifting an arm up, she placed it over her eyes and tried to lie still, hoping that that would make the headache go away.

"Emily?" a familiar voice called to her.

The child stirred.

"Emily?" the voice came again. "Emily, honey, time to wake up."

"Mommy?"

"Come on, sweetheart," the voice that spoke that time was her father's. "You need to get up."

Groaning, the girl , let her arm slip from her eyes and opened them again, blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the light. Slowly she sat up, the world around her spinning. When her head had stopped swimming, she took in her surroundings. She was in what looked a lot like a hospital room and was in a hospital bed in a clean white gown. Her parents were sitting in chairs at her bedside and were smiling at her, but, unlike their normal smiles which were soft and warm, these were rather strained and awkward. It frightened the girl. "Mommy, Daddy," she said meekly after a minute, gazing at them anxiously, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, baby," her father tried to assure her. "Nothing at all. It's just…."

"Emily, sweetie," he mother said, "do you remember the procedure."

The child nodded. How could she forget it? It was the scariest moment of her life!

"Do you know why we put you through it?"

"To help me get better so that I wouldn't be sick anymore."

"That's right, baby," her father cut in. "And we want you to know that, no matter what, we will always love you, no matter what."

The girl became even more frightened. What did they mean by all of this? Why wouldn't they love her? What was going on here?! "What…."

"You… don't look the same as you did before you went in, honey," her mother interrupted her, answering her question.

She blinked in even more confusion. What did they mean that she didn't look the same?

Sighing heavily, her mother turned to her father and nodded to him. He nodded back and reached over to the table beside her bed, picked up a mirror and handed it to his six-year-old.

The little girl, still looking at her father in bafflement, took the mirror and held it up so she could see her reflection. Staring back out at her was a girl about her age, except this girl's face was more filled out and healthy looking than the gaunt, sickly looking face of the girl she usually saw in her reflection. But the most shocking of changes were her hair and eyes. Instead of pale blonde hair, this girl had golden hair streaked with silver, and rather than brown eyes she had stark red ones.

* * *

><p><span>Present Day;<span>

Normandy sat straight and tall in the chair—not that she had much choice in the matter. Being strapped down to the chair made it a bit difficult to slouch. Her face was emotionless and she looked straight ahead into the two-way mirror, knowing that there were people on the other side watching and discussing her. She remained calm and placid… for the moment. The teenaged supersoldier had since come to the conclusion that the place she was in was not one of Dark's facilities or even Dark related (it mostly had to do with the fact that they'd strapped her down with leather restraints—something she could easily tear through—and not reinforced metal ones). That much was a relief. However, she still didn't know who these people were; didn't know if they were as bad and dangerous as Dark was. Because of this, she kept her guard up. It would do her no good to become comfortable only to be unprepared for when something bad happened.

A sound at the door drew her attention and she slightly turned her head in that direction. A second later an attractive woman with dark blond hair and golden-brown eyes who looked to be somewhere in her late thirties came through the door. Dressed in a stylish pant-suit, her face was as distant and expressionless as Normandy's. Closing the door, she came and sat down in the other chair across the table from the thirteen-year-old. "Hello," she greeted. Her voice wasn't really cold but it didn't possess much warmth either. It was rather flat and business-like. "My name is Samantha Miles."

Normandy stayed quiet, looking at the woman as though she could see straight through her.

"What is your name?" Sam prodded.

Normandy didn't answer.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "You do understand English don't you?"

Not a word.

"Can you speak? Are you deaf?"

Still nothing.

Sam was starting to get a little ticked now. Here she was, sitting across from this mysterious girl that had been in their care from numerous weeks, looking for answers and this child acted as though she were invisible! "Excuse me?" she asked a little impatiently.

Normandy smirked inwardly at the sound of tried patience in the woman's voice, but kept a straight face and continued to gaze with an unregistering stare.

At that, Samantha all but completely snapped. "Excuse me, child, I am unaware of what your problem is, but I am talking to you, and I demand answers!" She banged a fist against the table top to emphasize her point.

Normandy didn't even flinch.

"Answer me!" Sam screamed.

Suddenly the door to the room opened again, causing both females to look over at it. In stepped a tall man with curly brown hair that was beginning to gray who looked to be somewhere in his fifties or possibly even early sixties. Unlike Samantha he was dressed rather casually in jeans, boots, and a blue plaid flannel shirt and he was smiling in a genuinely friendly way. There was a more personable air about him.

Normandy caught herself almost like him right away and quickly reprimanded herself for it. She wasn't supposed to like people. Liking people lead to trusting them and when you trusted someone it was easier for them to take advantage of and betray you and in her line of work such a scenario could be extremely deadly. Still, as hard as she tried to harden herself, it was next to impossible to stop a small part of herself from feeling comfortable around the guy.

"Mr. Knight!" Samantha exclaimed at the sight of, obviously, her boss. She quickly stood. "What are you doing here?"

Mr. Knight simply continued to smile in that amicable way and nodded his head to her. "Just came in to meet the house guest who's been lying in our infirmary for the past six weeks in a coma, Sam," he answered.

Normandy's red eyes slightly widened in surprise for a moment. Six weeks? That's how long she'd been out? Six weeks?! And these people had taken care of her all that time, without knowledge of who or what she was? These folks were either incredibly hospitable or insanely stupid; she wasn't sure which yet.

"I was just getting down to business with that, sir," Samantha reported.

"Yes, I know," Knight replied. "How is it going so far?"

Sam's shoulders slumped a little bit and she looked back at the thirteen-year-old, sitting there with a bored expression on her face once again. "Not so well," she confessed with a sigh. "I'm not entirely this child understands English or can even speak at all."

The man simply hummed and made a slight nod of his head. Hooking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he walked passed Sam and stood behind the chair she had previously been sitting in. Directly in front of Normandy, he looked down at her.

Normandy in turn looked up at him and met his warm blue eyes. She stared unblinking at him and wordlessly examined him. Though the man was quite large and rather in shape for his age, he didn't seem at all intimidating.

After a minute or two, Knight said without looking at Sam, "Sam, why don't you go get a coffee or something?"

"Mr. Knight?"

"Go ahead, Sam. I'll be fine."

"Of… of course, sir. Whatever you say." With that the English woman turned and left the room, quietly closing the door on the way out.

For a few moments more the girl and man continued to study each other before Knight finally decided to sit down. "Sorry about Sam," he apologized with a chuckle as he settled into the chair. "She can be a bit intense at times. My name is Michael, by the way. And you are?"

Once again, Normandy remained silent.

Michael just smiled and chuckled again. "All right," he conceded with a nod. "If you won't tell me your name, I'll have to guess it. Hmm…. Now let's see…." He leaned forward in his seat so that he could be a little bit closer to the child, braced his elbows on the table top, intertwined his fingers and tapped his two index fingers to his lips, and squinted his eyes to look like he was studying her very, very, very hard. For a long time he sat there like that. "Adrian," he finally guessed.

The girl blinked.

"Barbara?"

Nothing.

"Chasity?"

Blank.

"Diana? Elsie? Faith? Georgie? Heather? Iris? Jenna? Kara?"

Still nothing.

"Leslie? Miranda? Natalie? Olivia?"

Not even so much as a flicker.

"I'm gonna keep going and doing this over and over until I get it right or until you tell me," Michael warned her. "Prudence?"

"'_**Prudence**_'?" the teen finally spoke, a look that was a mixture of disgust and disbelief on her face. "The hell kinda name is that?"

The man's face lit up and he grinned. "Ah, so she _**does**_ talk!" he exclaimed. "And apparently has a mouth on her as well."

Normandy couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, now that you're talking, and you apparently aren't fond of the name 'Prudence'," Michael commented, "how 'bout tellin' me what your name actually is?"

"Normandy," she said.

"Normandy…" Michael dropped over, obviously meaning for her to supply her last name.

"Just 'Normandy'," she insisted.

"All right then, 'Just Normandy', mind telling me a little about yourself?"

"I would actually," the girl almost snarled. "Tell me about who you are first, and then we'll talk."

"Okay, what do you wanna know?"

"Where am I? What is this place?"

"You are at the Knight Mansion in southern California. More directly you are at FLAG headquarters."

"FLAG?" Normandy repeated arching a golden eyebrow ever so slightly. "I don't know what that is."

"FLAG—Foundation for Law and Government," Michael explained. "Basically we're an organization that takes down bad guys all over the world and brings them to justice, particularly if the actions of these bad guys will harm the United States in some way."

"And you're the boss of it all?"

"Well…" Michael answered a little hesitantly, "… let's just say that it probably wouldn't exist if it weren't for me and my family."

It was then that Normandy realized there was something a bit familiar about this man. She'd definitely seen that curly brown hair somewhere before. The same with that smile. Wracking her brain, the supersoldier eventually pulled up an image of the two little twin girls that had been the first ones to greet her when she had first awoken before she'd gone on her rampage. Those girls and this man bared a strong resemblance to one another. Could they possibly be… related? "Excuse me for asking," she politely said, "but… you wouldn't by any chance be related to the two twin girls I first met are you?"

Michael grinned. "You've met my daughters Baylee and Bindi then, have you?"

"Your… your _**daughters**_?" Normandy questioned, unable to keep herself from sounding a bit shocked. Those girls looked to be between eight and ten years old and the littler girl that had been with them looked maybe three or four, and Michael looked… well, to put it nicely… aged. True it was a fact that a man could have children at almost any age so long as he was physically capable of… uh… "doing the deed", but how young would his wife have to be then?

Michael gave her a fake offended look. "I'll thank you not to sound so amazed," he declared. "I may look old, but I'm still young in heart, mind, and body, and so is my wife. And anyway, it's not unheard of for men of my age to have young children either."

Coming out of her surprise, Normandy shook her head. "No. No, of-of course not," she agreed. "Sorry."

"See that you are," the man agreed, though he was smirking. "Now, I've answered your questions, you up for answering some of mine?"

Normandy thought for a moment and then made a nod of her head. "Fair enough," she conceded. It was only fair after all; she'd just have to be sure not to give away too much information.

"First of all, where are you from?"

The girl shrugged. "Can't rightly remember," she answered. "Moved around so much I forgot."

"Where are your parents?"

A flash of pain flickered through the teen's eyes just long enough for Michael to catch it before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared and replaced with that stone mask. She looked down at her lap. "Dead," she replied, voice hardly able to be heard. "Have been for three years."

At that, Michael became quiet, his heart going out to the child. "I'm sorry," he softly said.

Normandy shrugged as though it was no big deal, while inside her heart was being pinched once again by the pain of that loss.

"Who's Glen?" Michael continued, voice softer and more careful than before.

The pain became even worse and tears threatened to spill over Normandy's cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. "My uncle—also dead."

"Do you have any other family at all?"

A slow shake of a golden and silver haired head.

Michael's heart broke. "_Poor kid_," he thought to himself as he watched her sitting there, head lowered so that her hair hid her face. She looked so small and scared. "_She's all alone in the world. No family, or friends, or anyone to look out for her. Poor thing's gotta be so scared._" The man wished with all his heart that there was something he could do to help her, but as of right now, with her still so wary of anybody and FLAG barely possessing any knowledge of her besides what he had just now learned, there wasn't much he could do. Sighing heavily, Michael rubbed his eyes. He really should keep questioning the child to find out more about her and why she had been injured and poisoned in the first place, but he just couldn't find the heart to do it. At the moment the kid looked like she was already on the verge of an emotional breakdown and something told him that this girl would not take kindly to anyone who helped her reach that stage, especially when that someone was all but a complete stranger to her. Besides, it was unlikely he'd get much more out of her anyway. All that in mind, Michael stood and went around to her side of the table, announcing, "I think that's enough 20 Questions for today." He sat on the edge of the table beside her, arms cross over his chest as he looked down upon her. "Don't you think?"

Not lifting her head, Normandy nodded.

"All right then." The ex-Knight Rider grimaced and quietly groaned at the knowledge of Samantha being on the other side of that mirror right now and the thought of what she would do to him for doing this (whether he was technically her boss or not), but he went and did it anyway. He was more concerned about the girl right now. "Normandy," he said slowly, "I'm going to let you go now."

At that the girl's head shot up. "What?" she questioned in disbelief.

"I'm gonna let you go now," Michael repeated, looking down a meeting her red eyes. "Not like 'let you go' let you go, I mean 'out of the chair and out of the room' let you go."

The girl was silent for a moment, processing this. "You mean…" she finally said, "… you're not putting me in a cell?"

Michael shook his head. "No cell," he answered. "No cell, no dungeon, no chains, and no tall tower that you'd need Rapunzel in order to be able to get into either." He could practically here Sam screeching in his ear now. Bonnie too. And Mike. And Sarah. And Debra. The list went on and on.

"I'm… I'm free?"

"Within reason. You're free to roam all of the estate, but you can't go beyond the borders. Considering this whole place is surrounded by some type of fence with cliffs to the north of here, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out where the boundaries are. Areas that are marked with some type of 'Off Limits' sign you can't go into either. Other than that you can do as you like and go where you like. If you need or want anything or are unsure about something just ask. We'll all try to help you to the best of our abilities." With that said, Michael reached down and began to undo the straps around the girl's body.

Normandy watched him in a bit of a daze. She was… free? They weren't locking her up? She could do whatever she wanted, go wherever she wanted? "Why are you doing this?" she dared the question still in shock.

Michael finished undoing the last strap and looked up to meet her eyes. Somehow the stone mask of hers had slipped away and he could clearly see the amazement, fear, uncertainty, and even a bit of relief in her face. He thought back to how the guards who had apprehended her had told him what she was doing when they'd caught and tranquilized her. She had been in the main hangar with KITT, and instead of staying shut down, KITT had been on line; allowing her to examine him, allowing her to look into his scanner. There weren't many outsiders that KITT did that with, and for the AI to do it with this girl… there must have been something about her that KITT liked… maybe even trusted. And if KITT trusted someone enough to all but completely expose who and what he was to them, he could trust them too. "Sometimes, ya gotta give a little trust to earn a little trust, Normandy," he answered, patting her shoulder. With that he stood and helped her to stand as well. "Come on, kid. Let's get you outta here." He led her to the door and held it open for her so that she could walk through.

As she passed on through, Normandy stopped and looked up at him, the smallest and most genuine of smiles gracing her pale and slightly gaunt face. She still had a long way to go before her body was back in the condition it had once been. "Thank you," she practically whispered.

Michael simply smiled back and nodded. He watched as she walked on and followed after, once against quietly groaning and mentally preparing himself from the firestorm that was about to come his way as payment for letting the girl go. "_Somethin' tells me I'm gonna be sleepin' in the dog house tonight_," the ex-Rider thought to himself. "_Literally_."


	9. Joy Ride

**Yay! Finally an update! I bet you'd all given up on me and thought I'd just quit this fanfiction, huh? Well, you were wrong! You doubters! *chanting* Doubters, doubters, doubters, doubters. I'm back! And so is Normandy, KITT, Michael and the gang. Whoo-hoo! You can all party now!**

**Okay, but in all seriousness, this chapter went over a lot better in my head. I've been writing Transformers for so long that it's probably gonna take me a little while to get back into the swing of things for writing this, but don't worry. It'll happen eventually. Hopefully the next chapter is longer, but hey, something's better than nothing right?**

**Also, I'm not the only one who thinks if logical for Normandy to know how to drive despite how she's only 13 right? I mean, I live and grew up on a farm, and lots of kids from my area were already driving by that age because country kids can get a license that allows them to drive at that age. Plus, considering what she does, I think it makes sense for her to know how to drive. She'd have to make an escape and if a car was on the scene, it would make sense just to use that as a getaway car right? Besides, Glen was a very thorough trainer. And I hope I don't make KITT seem like a creepy stalker here. That's not my intention at all.**

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider.**

* * *

><p>Stu Phillips; <em>Test Drive<em>

7

Joy Ride

Groaning loudly, Normandy closed her book without marking the place she'd left off (she hadn't really been reading anyway) and rolled over onto her stomach. The thirteen-year-old folded her hands beneath her chin and released a heavy sigh. She was _**so**_ bored! It had been over a month now since she'd come out of the coma and she was almost completely healed up now (the doctors seemed to be amazed by just how quickly she recovered), but what good was that when she had nothing to do? Yes she had a whole library of books to choose from if she wanted to read, but—as much as she liked a good story—recreational reading had never been her thing. She had her own TV in her room with a plan that had hundreds of channels to watch if she wanted to, but she hardly knew what was on to watch. The last time Normandy had even watched TV was before her parents were killed. She'd barely seen any of it since then—God only knew what shows were on now! The internet was always there, but she'd taken to steering clear of using that unless absolutely necessary. It was possible Dark could track her if she got on there, and that's the last thing she wanted and needed right now. She wasn't used to this much idle time—it felt so unnatural! What the supersolider really wanted to be doing right now was some good old, get-the adrenaline-pumping, kick-butt training. She always got a blast out of that. But that was off the list, too, since she didn't want to let FLAG know just yet what she was and what she could do.

The teen stared out the large glass windows that doubled as doors leading out to a balcony across the room. It was a beautiful sunny day outside, so she could always go out and do something there. The Knight's did have a big swimming pool, and there was also a track out there, too. Problem was those places were usually occupied. Normandy wanted to try to keep away from the people here as much as possible for right now—she didn't really trust many of them and she knew that they felt the same way about her. In fact the only person she only trusted right now was Michael, and even then just barely. She was starting to come around to his wife and his two eldest children as well, but she wouldn't be turning her back on any of them soon. Except maybe the little girls. They were just so cute and fun you couldn't help but almost instantly love them.

She could go exploring, but she'd already pretty much covered the entire grounds—except the places she was prohibited from going in of course—so there really wouldn't be anything new there. "If Glen were here," the teen mumbled, "he would probably be telling me to make friends." Normandy sighed heavily and rolled onto her back again, arms splayed out. "But I suck at making friends." Groaning loudly, the thirteen-year-old rolled back over onto her stomach and laid there with her face pressed down into the mattress. "Ugh! I am so bored! I'm sittin' with my thumbs up my ass here—what the hell do normal people do for entertainment?"

Little did the girl know, but not so surprisingly, she was being watched. KITT had patched into the security camera that had been set up in her room and, just as he had every day since Normandy had arrived, he kept constant vigil over her. Only now it was more like studying. This girl only continued to grow more and more fascinating. As if her physical appearance weren't enough, the way she interacted with people—or how she tried to _**avoid**_ interacting with people rather—was unlike anything the AI had ever witnessed in a human of either gender her age. If she had the opportunity, whenever someone started to cross her path, Normandy would quickly turn around and head in the other direction, ignoring the person entirely. If she couldn't avoid the person, the teen would become very rigid and tense, trying to give them as wide a berth as possible, and if she had to talk to someone, it was essentially the same thing; tense and rigid, appendages held close to her body, and short, brusque answers. At first KITT had attributed these things to shyness. Then he noticed how the girl never really seemed to be anxious and how she always looked the person in the eyes and used a clear voice, all signs leading to anything but being shy.

However, even if Normandy wasn't shy, she was still very much an introvert; about 75% of the AI's study of her took place while she was in her room. It seemed as though she kept herself locked away from the world, only venturing out for a couple hours every afternoon and then returning to her quarters. The only other times she left her room was during meal times, as she was always invited to eat with the Knight family, and if she was specifically asked or requested to. Other than that she lived in her room. Because of this, KITT wasn't at all surprised just how restless and bored to tears the child was. Something told him this girl wasn't used to lazing around all day. She needed something to do—something that would get her blood pumping and her synapses sparking.

Oddly enough, he felt very much the same way. Internet surfing and studying a thirteen-year-old girl's habits twenty-four hours, seven days a week could only be so interesting. It had been years since he'd been out on an actual mission, and daily drives just didn't cut it. Before now, KITT never once thought it would be possible for him to feel restless—after all, he was an AI; technically speaking, he wasn't supposed to feel anything. But he did. After spending all those years as Michael's partner, after losing old friends and gaining new ones through the years, after watching Michael and Bonnie's family grow up, after all the heartbreak and cherished moments he'd been through with these people, he most definitely had emotions. He'd learned them. And right now, just like Normandy, the emotion of boredom was his most prominent one. KITT felt like he was back on that car-lift so long ago; just spinning his wheels. He needed to get out of his hangar and go back to work, but until a new partner was found for him, that wasn't happening.

"KITT?" the voice startled the AI out of his thoughts.

"Yes, Debra?" he questioned.

The young woman raised an eyebrow and placed a gentle, warm hand on the sleek hood of the Trans Am. "KITT, buddy, you okay?" she questioned, concerned. "I've been talking to you for the past three minutes, asking you where you'd like to go for our drive today, and you haven't responded."

KITT released a sound that almost sounded like a sigh. "I'm sorry, Debra," he apologized. "I was… a bit distracted."

"That much is plain to see. But by what?"

"A look at my monitors should tell you." With that, KITT opened the door to allow Debra into the interior of the car.

Slipping in, Debra looked at the monitors and gapped at what she saw on them. "KITT!" she gasped in shock. "Are you spying on Normandy?"

"No!" KITT retorted incredulously, sounding a bit embarrassed. He quickly shut off the screens. "I have simply been observing her; studying her behavior and demeanor. She is quite fascinating

"Uh-huh," Debra snickered with a smirk. "Sure."

"I am serious, Debra," KITT insisted with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Debra couldn't help but giggle and feel a little bit proud of herself for irking the AI off a bit. She was most definitely her father's daughter in that sense. "Well, what have you found out about her so far?"

"Only that she is most definitely an introvert and that she doesn't seem to enjoy doing activities most teenagers her age do. At least not the same extent. As I have stated before, she is quite a curious case."

"So you haven't picked up anything that might explain who she really is or where she comes from or anything like that?"

"I only know as much as you do."

Sighing heavily, Debra slumped in the seat and shook her head wistfully as she looked down at the steering wheel. "What I wouldn't give to know some more info," she murmured mostly to herself. "I mean, Normandy seems like a nice enough kid, and—other than her escapade after she first woke up—she hasn't really done anything to cause much suspicion, but I sure would like to know more."

"As your brother would say," KITT commented, "ditto."

Debra smiled and chuckled, shaking her head and just how human the AI could sound at times. KITT really had come a long way from when had first come online. From the stories her father had told them all as young children and continued to tell them now, it sounded like KITT had been a real stiff and completely confused about human nature at first. Though it was obvious he still didn't completely understand human now—and probably never would—he was most definitely more in line with them. He almost seemed human himself sometimes. "So what does she do in her room, all day?" she questioned.

"Reads," KITT replied. "Or at least tries to it seems. Despite her obvious intelligence, Normandy doesn't at all seem that stimulated by reading."

"Mike's like that, too," the young woman commented drily, crossing her arms over her chest. "And Zeke."

"Your father was the same way," KITT told her, just as drily.

"Knight blood runs strong then, huh?"

"It would seem."

"Great," Debra grumbled. Reaching out she pressed a button on KITT's console and suddenly they were slowly spinning around, the turnstile they were on activated. When the turnstile stopped, they were facing the hangar doors. Once again, Deb pressed and button and they opened, letting in the bright sunlight from outside. "Ready to go for that drive?" she asked, looking down at the Trans Am's voice modulator.

"Please," KITT almost begged, the three bars lighting up and flashing across the modulator screen. "I need to get out of this hangar, if only for an hour or so."

Chuckling, Debra turned the key of the car, the engine coming to life in a soft roar, put the thing in gear, and pulled out of the hangar into the daylight. They drove down the long driveway towards the large, black wrought iron gates that led off the property to the world beyond. Little did they know was that they were being watched. As they drove by the mansion, they passed right by a certain thirteen-year-old's room and at that moment that thirteen-year-old was out on the balcony, watching after them as they sped away.

A devious smile slowly pulled at Normandy's lips as a lightbulb went off in her head. "I think I just figured out how to cure my boredom," she snickered to herself.

* * *

><p>Tucked snuggly in under her blankets, back towards the security camera in her room, Normandy waited unmoving. Her eyes were glued on the digital clock on her bedside table. She was waiting for the allotted time—1 o'clock—to get up and put her plan for a night of fun into action. By 1 o'clock it was a safe bet that everyone except the night watchmen were all pretty much in bed and deep asleep, so her only concerns would be the watchmen themselves, the main one being the person who watched the security screens all night long. But she had that pretty well planned out too. Most nights she slept with the blankets pulled up all the way over her head—she'd slept like that for as long as she could remember—and she was already sleeping on a stack of pillows. So long as the watchman didn't look up right at the exact moment she was getting out a bed, she was home free!<p>

Finally the green numbers on the clock flickered from 12:59 to one. Time to move. Moving as slowly as she could, Normandy, scooted her way out of bed, out from under the blankets, and lowered herself to the floor. For a moment she laid there, then she rolled over onto her back and peeked up over the edge of the mattress as her hands slipped beneath the sheets to fluff up the pillows that she'd previously been laying on. When she was satisfied with their appearance, she lowered herself back to the floor and rolled onto her front. Turning around, she army crawled across the floor to the foot of her bed. Her eyes were locked on the glass door. She'd left it slightly open before she'd gone to bed so that she didn't have to worry about fumbling around with it. Taking one last peek up at the security camera, the golden and silver haired teen, got up into a crouching position and then bolted for the door. She was out!

Once again Normandy didn't shut the door to avoid being locked out but didn't leave it hanging wide open either—something that would surely be noticed by either the watchmen walking the grounds or the watchman at the security screens. When she was satisfied with the door's position, she crept away from the windows and crouched down behind the railing of the balcony. The teen peeked up over the side and examined the ground below. So far all she could see was one watchman, scanning the area around the house. The thirteen-year-old couldn't help but smirk and snicker to herself. This was almost too easy!

Normandy watched as the man continued to walk away and once he had disappeared around the corner of the house, she leaped over the balcony and landed softly on the plush green grass below. Quickly darting into the bushes, the supersoldier waited for a few moments, just to make sure the guard hadn't heard her (she highly doubted it, but still) and come back. Assured he hadn't, she darted out of the bushes and headed in the direction of the hangar where she'd previously seen the Trans Am, stopping to conceal herself as a precaution ever now and then. It wasn't as difficult as it could have been. There was hardly a moon out—just enough light that she could see fine by—and the dark colored clothing she wore was perfect camouflage.

It wasn't long before the teen came upon her destination. Hugging close to the trunk of a tree, Normandy watched as another guard circled the hangar. Once he had disappeared around the far corner, she broke out of her hiding place and headed for the illuminated door. Unlike the first time she'd been here, the door was shut and, much to her chagrin, locked. Of course it wouldn't have been that hard for her to just break down the door (enhanced strength was really handy) but that would draw too much attention. She had to use a different strategy. Without hesitation, the girl reached up under her hood and pulled out a bobby-pin that she had been using to help keep her hair hidden under the hood. Bending it straight, Normandy inserted it into the keyhole. For a few moments she jiggled it around, eyes closed in focus as she intently listened to the sound of shifting tumblers inside the lock. Finally there came the awaited click. Red eyes snapping open, the thirteen-year-old beamed. "Still got it." Quickly glancing this way and that over her shoulders, the teenaged supersoldier grabbed hold of the handle, pushed it down and pushed open the door. Or at least she tried to. Something stuck. Raising a golden eyebrow, Normandy looked up above to see a padlock near the top of the door. She rolled her eyes with a long-suffering groan before reaching up and grabbing the lock, having to stand on the very tips of her tiptoes to do so. With one quick jerking twist, the padlock was broken and she was opening the door and slipping inside the hangar, silently closing it behind her. Stopping and pressing her ear to the door, Normandy listened carefully to see if the guard had heard and came back. When she heard nothing, the teen turned away from the door, and pulled out the small flashlight she brought along from her pocket, clicking it on. Seeing in the dark with a little light was one thing, but not even her heightened vision could allow her to see in pitch blackness and it was pitch as pitch dark in this place!

As quietly as she could, the thirteen-year-old treaded down the staircase to the floor and made her way across the hangar to where the car was sitting. As she came upon the vehicle, Normandy couldn't help but reach out and once again stroke the silky, smooth finish. This thing was a masterpiece. "I only hope you ride as good as you look," the teen purred, making her way around to the driver's door. Putting her hand on the door latch, Normandy half expected the car to be locked, but much to her delight it opened right up for her. "Apparently they thought you'd be locked up enough just by locking the hangar doors," she commented as she slipped in to the driver's seat, closing the door behind her. The teen pulled back her hood and reached out to grab the steering wheel. "Gullwing, huh?" she remarked on the design of the wheel with a light laugh. "Cool!" She felt around for the key and turned it, the car coming to life. Normandy couldn't help but grin at the soft, almost airy hum the vehicle made. "Stealthy thing, aren't you?" she chuckled, rubbing the steering wheel with affection. "I definitely like that. Hmm, let's see. Where's the lights?" She fumbled around to the left of the steering wheel for a moment, trying to find the switch.

Wanting to help her along, KITT—whom had already come online and had been watching the child the entire time—took care of the light situation for her. All at once, not only did his headlights rise up and flick on, but his entire dashboard lit up in all its technicolored brilliance. The AI couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the dazzled look on the girl's face.

Normandy stared at the illuminated dashboard in both fascination and intimidation. "Whoa!" she quietly exclaimed with a gulp. "Holy, _**crap**_ that's a lot of buttons! What are you—half airplane?" Sighing heavily, the thirteen-year-old looked over her shoulder towards the hangar doors behind them. "Well," she said, "I got you running and ready to go. Question is how do we get out of here exactly?"

Once again, KITT took the initiative. Activating the turnstile and the hangar doors at once, the AI hoped that the child would simply fall under the impression that it was an automated action and not look further into it. For a second, the questioning and thoughtful expression on her face had the AI worried. But when she hummed and simply shrugged it off, as if dismissing her inquiries all together he released a proverbial sigh of relief.

"All right then, let's do this!" Normandy whooped, pulling her seatbelt down and clicking it into place.

It was then that KITT began to wonder about this situation. It wasn't that he really felt guilty about allowing himself to be taken for a joyride by this child who was still very much a stranger to FLAG (okay, he felt a little guilty, but not much). He wanted to get out on the road as well and he knew that if the girl went too far with him he could easily put an end to it all and bring them both back here. It was more a question of if the girl could operate the vehicle. She was only thirteen after all, much too young to be driving in most circumstances, and it was highly likely that she had no driver's education let alone a license. The AI began to wonder if he'd just have to take over everything. His worries were quickly put to rest however when Normandy reached down towards the gearshift and smoothly put the car in drive. "_She must know _**something**_ of driving_," KITT said to himself. "_How much and how well remains to be seen._" The AI almost released of cry of alarm when the car was suddenly jolted into action, peeling off the turnstile and out the hangar doors.

"Whoo-hoo!" Normandy whooped with a laugh, speeding out the doors and blowing past two guards who had come running towards the hangar at the noise. "You got some speed!"

KITT watched on in horror and some exhilaration as they sped off down the driveway towards the gates, drawing more and more attention to themselves. He was more than a little tempted to slam on the breaks and end the affair right there, but his curiosity of where it would take him was just too strong to resist. "_I just hope Michael and everyone else will be able to forgive me for this later_," he thought. As they drew closer to the gates, the AI hacked into the security system and opened them, much to the dismay of the guards he was sure.

They breezed through the gates and suddenly Normandy was cranking the wheel hard to the left, whipping the car around in that direction and drifting out onto the road. Without even stopping or slowing down, the teen shifted into second gear and they were barreling off down the road, the dark world flying by them in a blur.

"_She can drive_," KITT assured himself. "_She can most definitely drive_."

* * *

><p>There was a loud knock on the door. "Mr. Knight?" a shout followed it. Another knock and another bellow. "Mr. Knight!"<p>

Groaning, Michael squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut and snuggled closer to his sleeping wife. Maybe if he was really quite, they would go away.

More banging more shouting.

"Mmm, you better answer that before the break the door down," Bonnie mumbled sleepily even as she cuddled further into his warm arms. "They sound pretty desperate."

Making a whining noise, Michael only huddled closer to his wife's bare back. "I don't wanna."

"Michael, eventually they're gonna stop knocking and just come in here, and when they do, they'll see me. Do you really want them to see your wife naked?"

For a moment the man was silent and unmoving, then with a long suffering sigh, he his limbs from those of his wife and slipped out of bed. Slipping into his bathrobe, he shuffled exhaustedly across the room, letting go more than one yawn along the way. Even as he walked, the man was almost asleep again by the time he reached the door, and he only woke up again because he slammed into the wood. Cursing under his breath and rubbing his nose, Michael fumbled around for the door knob and finally opened the door, sticking just his head out. "What?!" he demanded, squinting against the blinding hallway lights. "This has better be frickin' important—do you know what godforsaken time it is?!"

"Sorry to wake you sir," the guard apologized, not the least bit phased, "but we have a situation."

* * *

><p>Both windows rolled all the way down and radio blasting out Rihanna's 'Shut up and Drive', Normandy flew down the road, going well over the speed-limit. Not that she was really concerned. This late at night (or early in the morning—however you looked at it) there was nobody else out on the road except for her. Well, she and KITT, but she wasn't aware of that. "I haven't even seen any police yet," the girl muttered to herself.<p>

"_No_," KITT silently agreed, "_but I assure you that there is one up ahead._" The AI had already picked up the police car on his scanners and was already considering his options. The best thing to do would be to simply take control and slow the car down, but if he did that, he would further risk revealing himself to his passenger, and he wasn't ready to do that yet. He didn't know enough about the girl yet; he still had to be careful. It didn't matter what he did now anyway; they'd already just sped past the cop and the cop was already pulling out and coming after them. KITT silently cursed to himself.

Noticing the flashing lights in her mirror, Normandy looked up and cursed as well. "Spoke too soon," she grumbled. How was she going to play this now? Stopping and pulling over would be suicide since she was driving under-aged with no license or licensed driver in the car. Plus the car was more or less stolen (she was planning on going back to the estate of course, but still). No, pulling over wasn't an option. But could she outrun him? She didn't see how this car could go any faster than his car. All of a sudden the teen caught another blinking light out of the corner of her eye and looked down. One of the buttons was flashing. "Turbo-boost?" she read, raising an eyebrow. She didn't really know what that meant, but she got the feeling that she was meant to push it. Slowly reaching out, Normandy pressed the button. Instantly she was thrown against the seatback as the car catapulted forward, the digital speedometer racing faster and faster and faster. 100… 150… 200… 250… 300… 350…. So that's what turbo-boost meant! "This is so awesome!" Normandy cheered, voice slightly vibrating. "Whoo-hoo!" They jettisoned off down the road in a blur, leaving a very dumbfounded policeman in the dust.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean KITT's gone?" Michael asked. Both he and Bonnie were standing out in the hallway in their bathrobes talking to the guards. Mike, Sarah, and Debra were all standing out in the hall with them, too. Needless to say they were all a little bit surprised by the news.<p>

"Just what I'm saying, sir," one of the guards stated. "He's gone. Took off with that Normandy girl behind his wheel."

"Wait, wait, wait, slow down here," Mike said, waving his hands in the air. "Are you guys saying that Normandy stole KITT?"

"But that's ridiculous," Bonnie snorted. "KITT can't be stolen—he'd never allow it."

"Unless Normandy somehow found a way to override his programming," Bedra pointed out with a shrug. "But I hardly think that's possible.

"Besides, Normandy doesn't even know about KITT," Sarah stated, arm linked through her fiancé's. "She thinks he's just a car—she doesn't know anything more about him. Does she?"

"I wouldn't think so," Mike answered. "But then why would she take off with him then."

"My guess is she was bored," Debra sighed, rubbing her eyes. "She was bored and decided to take KITT out for a joyride."

"You think KITT would just let that happen?" another of the guards questioned.

"Probably," Bonnie answered. "If he was bored, too, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out if he was. He's been out of action for a while."

"What I don't get is why she would do this after Dad specifically told her not to leave the property," Mike stated.

"Why are you surprised about that?" Michael quizzed his son. "It's not as if I'm her father or even much of an authority figure to her. That girl pretty much does what she wants."

"Yeah, but she seems to respect her," Sarah pointed out.

"Only because I didn't lock her up," Michael replied. "And, technically speaking, she hasn't left the property. Not in her way of thinking at least."

"Um… Dad, she drove out of the gates and down the road," Debra reminded him. "How is that not leaving the property?"

"Because KITT is part of the property," Bonnie explained, picking up on her husband's meaning. "So long as Normandy remains inside the car she hasn't left the property. She isn't disobeying your father's instructions, she's simply bending them—taking them to mean something different."

"Should we go after her, sir?" the guards asked.

Massaging the bridge of his nose to try to relieve a headache, Michael thought it over for a minute before shaking his head. "No," he answered with a sigh. "No, don't worry about it. You'd never be able to catch them anyway."

"But, sir, she took…"

"She didn't take KITT. Nobody and take KITT against him will—trust me, I've tried and it's next to impossible. If she drove off in KITT to go joyriding then he _**wanted**_ to go with her, otherwise she never would have made it out of the hangar. KITT's not stolen; he left on his own accord."

"But what if she runs?"

"She won't. KITT won't let it happen. If she tries to run off with him he'll put a stop to it and bring both of them back here. But she won't even try."

"How do you know, Michael?" Bonnie asked.

Michael took all of them into his gaze and looked at them all seriously. "Because Normandy has nowhere else to go. She has no family, no friends, and no home. This is the only place she knows now, and even if it isn't home to her, it's the only place she has where there's a roof over her head. She won't run. She can't." The man let loose another large yawn and put an arm around his wife's shoulders, leading her back to their bedroom. "Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but my wife and I are going back to bed. Goodnight." Suddenly he stopped and looked over his shoulder at the guards again. "Oh, and one more thing, fellas. No point in waking up Sam for this. She can find out in the morning."

Bonnie snickered at that and looked up at her husband with a smirk. "You just don't want Sam dragging your butt out of bed and yelling at you for the rest of the night," she claimed.

Michael pulled the door shut behind them and led her back to bed. "What was your first clue?"

* * *

><p><strong>Question: Does anybody else have trouble in keeping KITT and the Trans Am separate in their minds? I mean, I know KITT is technically the AI and the Trans Am and just the shell that he's in, but I still see the Trans Am and the AI as KITT as a whole! I'm not the only one who does right? Right?! Eh, who cares?<strong>


	10. Potentiality

**Finally a decent fight scene. *sighs* Maybe I've finally broke through that writer's-block. I have RWBY to thank for that and thank you, Wolfie, for getting me into the show! Love ya, sis! So let's go on with this.**

**GirlWhoLovesAnime—Okay, good. Phew! I was afraid I was the only one who had issues with that. *hugs back and accepts cookie* Thanks!**

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider.**

* * *

><p>"Come at me and you'll see I'm more than meets the eye. You think that you'll break me—you're gonna find in time you're standing too close to a flame that's burning hotter than the sun in the middle of July! Sending out your army, but you still can't win! Listen up, silly boy, I'm gonna tell you why…" Jeff &amp; Casey Lee Williams; <em>I Burn<em>

8

Potentiality

KITT still couldn't quite believe it. Here he was, being taken on a joyride by a thirteen-year-old girl whom he knew next to nothing about and he had _**let it happen**_! "_I must have picked up on Michael's rebelliousness more than I thought_," the AI thought to himself, terrified of the thought. The nonconformist didn't seem like a good job for him—he was much more comfortable playing the rational one in the team. Still, the experience delivered a much needed thrill for the AI, so he couldn't say that he didn't enjoy it or felt completely guilty about it. That would probably change when they got back to the estate.

They were driving through town now, practically just the two of them—the streets mostly empty at this time of night. All at once Normandy's stomach growled. Taking a hand off the steering wheel, the teen rubbed her belly which was beginning to ache with hunger. That was the bad thing about having enhanced biology—you burned through food a lot more quickly than normal humans did. Looking to her right, the teen saw a McDonald's. She'd never had food from there before—Glen and her parents had never let her have fast-food—and she didn't really know what they even served much less what she would order. But Normandy was about to find out because she needed food. Now. Her belly rumbling more and more every second, the thirteen-year-old pulled off the street and into the parking lot of the fast-food joint. It wasn't until she's parked and switched off the engine when she realized a major problem: money. She didn't have any. Growling in annoyance, the two-toned haired girl smacked the palm of her hand against the steering wheel and let her head smack against the headrest. "Damn it!" she snarled. Her stomach growled again, seeming to agree with her.

Grumbling under her breath, Normandy leaned across and fumbled around for the handle to the glove-box. "Don't suppose they keep any spare money or credits cards in here, huh?" she muttered to herself once she'd opened it. As if summoned by her question, a mechanical arm extended out from the open glove box, holding several crisp bills. The teen stared in shock for a moment. What in…? She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out just what had happened and how. Was this car completely voice-automated or something. "No wonder they keep you locked up," she mused, taking the money. Normandy undid her seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped out into the warn summer night. "Uh… thanks," the teen muttered to the car before closing the door, feeling stupid for doing it but have the irresistible urge to show some form of gratitude. Turning away she pulled up her hood to hide her hair and went across the parking lot and into the fast food joint.

KITT sat quietly in his parking space, watching on as Normandy walked up to the counter and started ordering her food. That's when he picked up the audio waves of rap music blasting loudly. Way too loudly. The AI turned his attention to two, low riding, "tricked out" cars with no headlights on that were pulling into the parking lot, one single thought instantly coming to his processor: riff-raff. If KITT could have sighed to himself he would. He had not been planning on dealing with hoodlums tonight and he had no desire to start planning it now, but more than likely he wouldn't have a choice. People just seemed to be drawn to the attractiveness of his sleek shell. Vagrants seemed to be even more drawn to it. The AI silently cursed as the cars pulled up on either side of him and parked. Yup, this was going to be one of those times.

The doors of the cars opened up and at least five males, somewhere between 18 and 25 who all appeared to be of Latino descent, exited the vehicles. From the identical devil's-head tattoos on their necks, they were all most definitely part of some gang. Running a quick search of all the local law enforcement databases, KITT came up with a match. They were the Diablos. Running more face scans KITT discovered that more than 75% of the men here had rap-sheets more than a mile long, ranging from disturbing the peace to charges of murder. This was going to be interesting.

One of the men whistled lowly, hands in his pockets as he sauntered around the Trans Am. "¡Dios mío!" he murmured, voice full of awe. "She's a beauty, man!" He knelt down beside the car, his hands splayed out across the hood. "Damn! That finish is smooth!"

Another of the gang members came over and he too slid a hand along the hood of the Trans Am. "Like a baby's bottom," he agreed.

"Bet'cha she'd be lighting," another man said. "Look at the way this thing is; the aerodynamics. This thing'll cut right through the air like a knife."

Okay, KITT had to admit that he didn't mind all of the compliments and ogling his housing was receiving—it had been a while since that many people admired him at once. But he still didn't like the situation. Here he was, surrounded by an entire squad of dangerous, violent gang members, with no partner and a young teenage girl as his only companion. The car hadn't wanted to expose himself to Normandy just yet, but if these men didn't leave soon—and it seemed as though they most definitely planned on staying so long as he was there—he would have no choice. KITT was aware the Normandy had some defensive skills—he still had the security footage from the day she awoke saved in his memory banks—but he highly doubted she was skilled enough for a situation such as this. It would be his job to protect her. The AI just hoped he would be able to.

"Hey!" a painfully familiar voice cut through the night.

KITT could have flinched inside his silicon shell. "_No, no, no!_" he thought to himself. "_Not now!_" He'd wanted to keep Normandy out of danger for as long as he could, but it appeared as though she had other ideas. Not really a surprise actually, and most definitely not good. All men turned their attention away from the black Trans Am to the young girl standing across the parking lot, arms crossed over her chest and not looking the least bit pleased.

With a deadly, eerie, red glare, Normandy shouted, "Hands off the car!"

Smirking, the guys all exchange a look and snickered. They turned back to the girl and the man that had first come up to KITT stood and sauntered his way towards the child, arms held out and hands open and up in a non-aggressive posture. "What's wrong, little lady?" he asked in a patronizing tone. "This your car or somethin'."

Hands moving to her hips, Normandy didn't look the least bit frightened. In fact, she looked even more ticked off than she had been just seconds before. Nobody talked down her like some little kid and got away with it. _**Nobody**_. "So what if it is or isn't?" she shot back. "The order still stands—get your damn hands off the car."

The man chuckled and shook his head. "Feisty one, aren't you?" he commented. "I like that in a girl. Unfortunately you're a little too young for me. And aren't you a little young to be out alone at this time of night, let alone driving a sweet ride like that, amiga?"

"Aren't _**you**_ old enough to learn how to put your pants on correctly?" the thirteen-year-old shot back bitingly, eyes on the man's saggy-saggy pants.

The man snarled. "You got somethin' against how I dress?" he growled threateningly.

"No," Normandy replied, looking back up to meet his gaze with a smirk. "Just against seeing your underwear. Nice design by the way. Bunnies?"

"They're Playboy."

"That's supposed to make it more masculine?"

The veins were starting to pop out on the man's head; KITT could see this all coming to a head very quickly. "You smart-mouthed little brat," he seethed through clenched teeth. "You got any idea who we are, bitch?"

Normandy shrugged and shook her head, still not the least bit fazed. "Search me."

The man leaned down and got right in her face, pointing to the tattoo on his neck. "We're the Diablos! We eat little punks like you for breakfast!"

"Well, that isn't very nice."

The man was fuming even hotter now, looking like his head was almost ready to pop clean off his shoulders. "You got a death wish or something, kid?" he rumbled. "'Cuz I sure as hell would love to give you a beat down and show you what for!"

An dubious snort came out from beneath the hood. "I'd love to see you try."

With that, the man reeled back his arm, hand open and stiff to deliver a solid slap, and threw his arm forward. He never made contact. He was only inches away from doing so when his wrist was caught in a freakishly strong grip and held firm. His eyes dark eyes widened in horror. What the hell was going on here?

Slowly, Normandy looked out from under her hood and directly up at him, locking red eyes that almost glowed onto his. A dangerous scowl was a storm cloud shadowing her face. "You don't touch my car," she rumbled, voice deadly calm, "and you sure as hell don't put a hand on me." Reeling a leg back, she swung it forward and planted it between his legs with enough force that it knocked him down on his knees as well as got him clutching at his tenders, face contorted with pain. The thirteen-year-old braced an almost friendly hand on his shoulder and leaned down until she was face to face with the gang banger. A sinister smile curled her lips just so. "Adiós, _**amigo**_," she hissed. With that she slightly readjusted her grip on his wrist and dug her thumb forcefully into the inside of it, bending it back at such an angle that it caused the poor guy to scream in agony and a sharp crack to lift up from the joint. Then she drew her left fist back and launched it forward. "Hah!" Her fist came into contact with his face and she let go of his wrist at the same time, allowing the guy to fly back across the parking lot and slam into one of the low-riders.

The rest of the gang stared in sheer disbelief at their buddy, who was now lying unconscious on the trunk of the car in a mess of shattered glass that had once been the back windshield of the car. Then they turned their attention to the girl, looking even more shocked. How in hell had she done that?!

Unzipping her hoodie, Normandy slipped out of it and let it fall to the cement behind her, revealing her exotically colored hair. She turned a hard gaze on the men. "Anyone else wanna be stupid?" she asked loudly. For a second nothing happened, and then one guy broke away from the group and started charging her. Normandy smirked, her heart fluttering with excitement. This is exactly what she needed! "I'll take that as a 'yes'." She charged forward, unable to suppress the grin that was growing wider and wider on her face. After a few steps she launched herself into the air. "Huh!" Moving into a front flip, she slightly twisted sideways, right leg extended, then came down—"Hyah!"—smashing her foot into the gang member's face on the way; knocking him out of commission. The teen landed in a crouch. Hearing the sound of trunks opening, clanking and clanging, and running feet she looked up to see the rest of the gang bangers were coming at her now as well, some of them carrying severed chains, baseball, bats, metal pipes, and crowbars, other's coming with just their fists ready. Normandy tried not to act excited, but she couldn't help it. "This is exactly what I'm talking about," she murmured to herself, then she was up and running again.

Coming up to the first guy she threw a fist up in a hard uppercut—"Rah!"—then slammed her elbow hard into his middle, knocking him backwards to the ground. "Yah!" Without a second to spare she turned her attention to her next challenger. The thirteen-year-old supersoldier ducked down out of the way of his fist and quickly shot back up, planting two rock hard fists in his stomach four times before jumping up into a round house kick and slamming her foot against his jaw. "Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh! Hrah!" That made four. Turning her attention behind her, Normandy quickly raised up a foot to meet with the chin of a guy who had snuck up behind and had a crowbar raised high, ready to swing down. "Hiyah!" He stumbled back and she went after him. Running up his torso as if he were a brick wall, the girl slammed her foot down in his face and propelled herself off him up into a backwards leap in which she twisted over to face forwards. In the end she landed on another man's shoulders in a handstand. Gripping him firmly, the teen swung herself down to the pavement again, pulling him over with her and, once she was on the ground again, threw him across the pavement into another of the cars. "Hu-rah!"

Hearing a jingling sound, Normandy looked up and quickly raised an arm up to shield her face from an oncoming chain. The chain wrapped around her forearm. Grabbing it, the girl jerked the gang member on the other end of it closer and slammed her left fist into jaw, literally knocking him up off the ground. "Huh-ah!" Jumping up she slammed her foot into his chest, successfully making him crash into the ground. Hard. "Ha!" Using the upward propulsion from that, the supersolider spun around into another kick, bashing her foot upside the head of another aggressor. "Hrah!" Seven down, three to go. All of a sudden Normandy was hit hard in the stomach with a baseball bat and sent flying backwards. "Ahh! Hoo!" She hit the pavement and went rolling a bit. "Ugh…." Not a bad hit… except for the fact that it had been so completely cheap.

The three remaining men laughed jeeringly and pointed at her. "Thought you had us all in the bag, didn't you, chica? Just goes to show you don't mess with us! We're the Diablos!"

Pushing herself up, Normandy got back on her feet and slowly turned to face, head lowered so that he bangs shielded her eyes. They were going to seriously wish they hadn't done that. A twisted smile curling her lips again, the teen unraveled the chain that was still wrapped tightly around her forearm until she was holding it in her hand. Then she ran. Whipping the chain out, she wrapped it around the baseball bat in one of the guy's hands and ripped it out of his grip, throwing both it and the chain off to the side. She came at him, fists blazing. Punching him the stomach a few times she forced him away from the main group before delivering a few upward jabs. Then she leapt up and planted her foot in the side of his head before landing, jumping back up again and doing it the other way. Finally she grabbed the poor man's wrist and spun him around, twisting so that she would be facing him and finally leapt up again and planted a solid kick right between his eyes, taking him down for the count. "Hrah!" She turned towards the other guys. Her eyes widened in alarm and she jumped back into a couple of back-handsprings to get out of the way of a crowbar being swung at her, then she was back up and charging again. "Hyyyah!" Normandy kicked her foot up in the air, only to have it met with the crowbar and forced back down. Spinning around she did the same thing only to have the same result. The second guy came at her with a ready fist and she dropped to the ground, tuck and rolling out of the way. Two on one? Piece of cake! The men came after her, bar and fists blazing, and, smirking, Normandy ran back into the storm.

Not a minute later both men were lying in a heap on the ground, groaning and mostly unconscious just like the rest of their gang. Amid the bodies Normandy stood, a crowbar held in her grasp, hardly struggling to draw breath, hardly sweating, a slight smirk on her lips. The funk she'd been in for such a long time was gone and she felt fresh, rejuvenated, and ready to go. That had been exactly what she needed! She'd almost thank these guys… if it weren't for the fact that they were vagrants and all still knocked out. Throwing down the crowbar, Normandy stepped over a gang member and headed back into the McDonald's where all who had been in there were staring out the windows, eyes wide with shock and jaws on the floor. The thirteen-year-old went up to the counter where her bag of food was sitting. Smiling, she grabbed it and laid down a twenty. "Keep the change," she remarked turning around and leaving amid the frozen onlookers.

KITT, just like everyone else, was in such a daze that her barely realized when Normandy got back into the car. Had he just seen that? Did that really just happen? A thirteen-year-old girl—a fairly _**small **_thirteen-year-old girl—had just taken on ten members of a notorious, dangerous gang and had one with little effort! How was that even possible? Who was this girl?! Why skills like that could easily make her a top operative for some… KITT was struck with a brilliant idea.

Unaware that she had basically stunned her ride to the core, Normandy situated herself in the driver's seat before opening up her bag of food and pulling out a small cardboard bow. Opening it she found the quarter pounder burger she'd ordered. It certainly smelled delicious, but would it taste just as good? The teen picked it up and took a small nibble of it. The flavor exploded on her tongue, almost overwhelming her senses. That was amazing! The girl started taking bigger more deliberate bites of the sandwich, relishing everything about it; the juiciness of the meat the crunchiness of the onions and pickles, the warmth of it, everything. "Mmm," the moan Normandy before she could stop it. "If this tastes this good," she mumbled through a mouthful of burger, "I can't wait to try out those fried potato strips."

* * *

><p>The sun was just starting to rise in the sky by the time Normandy and KITT returned to the estate, Normandy still in control. The gates swung open expectantly to meet them and they drove through, up the driveway until they finally came back to the hangar. Inside all of the lights were on there was a group of people—that consisted of Michael, Bonnie, Debra, Mike, Sarah, and Sam—waiting to meet them. KITT quietly groaned to himself. He wasn't in the mood right now to get lectured on why allowing an underage girl that they all knew little to nothing about to go joyriding with him in the dead of night was not a good idea. He knew why it wasn't a good idea! Pulling into the garage they once again parked on the turnstile.<p>

Shutting off the car, undoing her seatbelt, grabbing her trash and slipping out of the cab, Normandy looked up at the group in a way that almost made it seem nothing was wrong. "Do you always welcome people home like this?" she questioned, closing the door.

Michael was about ready to say something when Sam jumped in, cutting him off. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?!" she demanded, so enraged that her face was beet red. "You have the audacity to sneak off in the middle of the night, break into a secured warehouse, and drive off in a piece of FLAG property?!"

"I think what Sam is trying to say, Normandy," Michael sighed, finally getting into the conversation, "is that what you did was foolhardy and reckless. While I can most definitely relate to you on those to fronts it was also extremely illegal and potentially dangerous. What if you had been in a wreck?"

Crossing her arms, Normandy shrugged. "I don't get hurt easily," she remarked. "And I mean, come on, what's the big deal? So I took the car out for a ride without any permission, but I brought it back. And I know I'm underage, but I know how to drive."

"That much we discovered," Michael replied with a snort and a smirk.

"That being said, Normandy," Bonnie said, coming into the conversation, "we can't condone this and we most definitely won't allow this to happen again."

Slumping a bit, Normandy rolled her eyes and groaned. "What do you have in mind?" she questioned glumly.

"Twenty-four/seven surveillance," Sam answered brusquely, "performed by _**humans**_. You won't so much as be able to breathe without someone right there watching every second of it."

Normandy groaned loudly, letting her head fall back in exasperation. "Seriously?" she complained. "For how long?"

"Until we're sure we can trust you," Michael replied. "Now go back to the house and get some sleep."

Sighing, Normandy about-faced and glumly began to make her way out of the hangar and back to the house. "Oh, sure," he remarked, holding her hands out. "Because I'm gonna need to be plenty rested if I'm gonna be watched by guards for the rest of my natural life."

When she'd left, the attention turned to the Trans Am sitting before them. Michael came forward and put a hand on the car's hood and asked worriedly, "You okay, pal?"

"Affirmative, Michael," KITT replied. "In fact, you could almost say that I am much better than okay."

"Didn't knock anything loose did ya, KITT?" Debra asked coming forward and looking him over. "No systems out of whack? No circuits or wires needing replaced? No realignment needing to be done?"

"Not in the least bit, Debra," KITT assured her. "Despite her need for speed, Normandy took exemplary care of me." The AI became quiet for a moment, deciding if he should tell them what had happened or not. "However…" he said after a moment, "… I feel that there is something I should show you. If you could come around to the cab to look at my screens…." He opened the car doors. The group shifted around so that they could all get a view of his two dashboard screens. Once they were all in position, KITT played the footage of the fight between Normandy and the Diablo gang members he had recorded and saved.

"That's not possible," Sarah murmured as they watched on. "That's not possible at all."

"And yet we're lookin' right at it," Mike breathed.

"Look at the skill," Sam mused in awe, "those moves, that control—it's all perfect and fluid; like living art!"

"KITT, Normandy took out ten gang members single-handedly?" Bonnie asked, still watching the footage in disbelief.

"Correct, Bonnie," KITT answered. "Ten extremely dangerous gang members I might add. This girl continues to grow stranger and stranger every day."

"Where do you think she learned how to do this?" Debra questioned.

"I haven't the slightest clue," the AI sighed.

Michael, the only one who hadn't said anything throughout the entire viewing of the footage, was deep in thought, stroking his chin. After a moment he finally spoke. "I see it," he said almost to himself. "I can definitely see it."

"See what, Michael?" Bonnie questioned.

"KITT, are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" the man asked his old partner.

"Of course I am, Michael," KITT replied. "In fact I thought of it before you did, hence why you are thinking of it now."

"Thinking of what?" Sam asked.

"Well, we can't be certain of anything just yet," Michael finally answered, still watching the footage, "but I think we just might have found our next Knight Rider."


	11. Coming to Terms

**We get to see a little bit more action in this one, not a whole lot yet, but still a bit more to see just what Normandy is capable of. Also another flashback to her past, and next chapter we'll get the whole low down on who she really is and what really happened to her! Yay!**

**WolfAssassin369—Yes, you are. XDD**

**GirlWhoLovesAnime—I'm so glad you enjoyed it! It was a lot of fun to write. :)**

**Unfortunately, I do not own Knight Rider.**

* * *

><p>Steve Jablonsky; <em>Decision<em>

9

Coming to Terms

Seven years ago;

"Ugh… I… I can't hold it anymore!" the child whimpered. Tears streaming down her face the little girl began crumbling under the weight she was holding above her head. Her quivering arms finally gave and she let the weight come to rest on her shoulders. It wasn't much relief.

"Get it back up!" a man sharply barked.

"I… I'm sorry. I can't…"

"Get it back up! Over your head! _**Now**_!"

Biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, the child summoned up every last bit of the strength she had left and tried to lift the weight up again. It didn't work. She just wasn't strong enough. It all finally became too much for the little girl and her whole body gave in. Her legs going out from under her she crashed to the floor, instinctively curling up into a small ball and covering her head as the weight came down atop her. She was saved from being crushed as she weight crashed down atop its support bars. The girl sobbed in relief. Without warning she was suddenly grabbed by the arm and roughly jerked back up on her feet.

"Again!" the man bellowed in her face, shoving her back towards the weight. "Lift it back up!"

"I… I can't…" the child panted helplessly. "I'm sorry… I can't. I'm too tired. Ahh!" She was slapped across the face, the action knocking her to the floor.

"Lift it back up!"

"I can't! It's too heavy! Ahh!" She was seized by the arm again and lifted back up again. "Ow! You're hurting me! Let me go!"  
>"Lift it back up!" the man barked.<p>

"No! Please! No!"

Growling furiously, the man punched the girl. "Lift it back up," he threatened, "and don't put it down till I tell you or you'll get worse than that." He shook the poor child. "Understand?!"

Trying to fight back her tears but failing, the little girl simply shook her head and crouched back underneath the weight and began to lift it up again, despite her protesting joints and muscles. How could this be happening to her? How could people be so mean?

* * *

><p>Present Day;<p>

Normandy crouched atop the building opposed to her target warehouse, concealed in her dark attired by the night shadows. Red eyes piercing out into the night she watched with great intensity the two guards conversing at the door, waiting for them to go on their way so that she might enter. Finally they left their separated ways, leaving the door wide open. Time to go. Standing, the teenager took out her grappler gun, aimed, and fired before securing the cable on her end, hooking herself up to the cable, and zip-lining across. When she was across, the girl pulled out a small can of black spray-paint from her utility belt and flipped over in her harness so that she was hanging upside down. She sprayed the lens to the security camera above the doorway. Putting the spray-paint back, Normandy unclipped her harness—while still hanging upside down—and dropped to the ground, flipping over and landing in a crouch as she did so. For a moment she froze and looked around to see if anyone had heard anything and was coming back to investigate. Evidently no one had. With that the young supersolider turned her attention back to the door.

Trying the knob, Normandy found the door locked tight, and it appeared as though the only way to get in without causing a scene was to break the code for the electronic lock. The problem was, she had no time for that. Digging into her utility belt once again, the thirteen-year-old brought a small oblong device and carefully placed it on the keypad by the door. She pressed the button. A few seconds later electricity sparked around the keypad and a sizzling sound came from it before a soft clank sounded from within the door. Normandy removed the device from the keypad and tried the door again. This time it opened wide in invitation and the child entered the warehouse, softly closing it behind her.

Once inside, Normandy reached up and pulled her night-vision goggles down over her eyes and switched them on. Even though she had perfect night vision it was too dark in here for her to see without the goggles. Once she could see again, the teen began creeping her way through the warehouse, headed towards her objective. The building was an absolute maze—full of crates and shelving units and several forklifts—and Normandy had no other choice but to find her way through it. It would have been undoubtedly easier to just get up on top of the stacks and travel through the building that way, but unfortunately most of the stacks and shelving units towered too closely to the ceiling. Needless to say, through the labyrinth was the only way to travel.

More than once the teenager came to a dead end and more than once she had to travel back and take a different path. Normandy was getting fed up with it. She'd wanted to accomplish this mission and quickly and efficiently as possible, as was her MO with such things, and this maze was only slowing her up. If only she had the ability to walk through things. As she came around the corner after having to turn back from yet another dead end, the girl ran smack into a security guard.

"Hey!" the guard exclaimed. "You're not supposed to be in here!" The man drew his gun.

Normandy quickly ducked out of the way of his fire, grabbing his wrist as she did so while pushing up his arm with her other hand. Spinning around she crunched his arm down over her shoulder, causing the guard to drop his gun, before throwing an elbow back and ramming it into his side. She lifted his arm up over her shoulder and, pushing on the back of his shoulder, threw him forward and over to the ground before slamming her foot down into his face to knock him out. The girl snorted to herself and shook her head. "_Too easy._" Stepping over him, Normandy moved on.

Peeking around the corner of a large crate, Normandy found her target—a large large box marked with "DANGER" in big print on the side—and surrounding it were about a dozen more guards armed with submachine guns. The teen growled to herself. She'd never be able to get passed them undetected, not even with a smoke grenade. There was only one thing to do. Reaching down to her hips, the girl pulled trusty friends: two .40 caliber Glocks. She quickly loaded both with magazines, took them off safety, and peered around the corner again. Holding out her left gun she aimed and fired once. One of the guards on the edge of the group closest to her position dropped dead from a direct hit to the head. Normandy quickly ducked behind the crate again as the men began firing at her position.

"Hold your fire!" one of the guards shouted, holding out his hand for a ceasefire. The shooting stopped and nothing but an eerie, dead silence fell over the warehouse as the men all peered out into the pitch blackness with their night vision, trying to locate their attacker. "Mack, Jim, you two go over there and check it out."

The two guards left the group, careful making their way towards where the shot had come from. They disappeared behind the crate. Not a second or two later three gunshots rang out, accompanied with three flashes of light around the corner. Then there was silence again. Mack and Jim didn't come back.

What seemed like hours but was only seconds passed and still there was no movement and no other sound. The guards were all beginning to shake, their breaths quivering as they're gaze darted around to find and fine who was shooting at them. "Do you think…" the guard who had spoken was quickly cut off by a bullet to the chest and dropped to the floor dead.

The other guards looked at him and then quickly looked up again to see a small, masked girl soaring through the air, having vaulted off the top of the crate. Guns pointed downwards, she was firing at them and making successful hits. The guards were dropping like flies!

Hitting the ground in a crouch, Normandy quickly jumped up and out of the way again as the guards started firing at her position. She started firing back, very rarely missing her targets even as she soared through the air upside down as she flipped over mid-jump. Contacting with the ground again, the young supersoldier dug her foot into the floor and vaulted off again. She fired three times, taking out three more soliders and then hit the ground again rolling over mid-air to land on her back. Sliding across the floor, she slid through a man's legs, firing at the back of his head and dropping him. Turning to her right she aimed and fired again, hitting another guard through the heart and turned to the left to take out two more coming her way. Aiming in front of her she blew away another guard before spinning around and taking out the legs of another man. He fell to the floor and she jumped to her feet. Planting a foot in the fellow's chest, Normandy aimed between the man's eyes and was just about ready to fire when everything went black.

"V.R. terminated," a robotic voice sounded off as the words flashed before the girl's eye in large, green print.

"What the..?" Normandy grabbed the V.R. helmet and ripped it off her head before glaring up the wall at the viewing window. "Hey, what's the big idea?!" she shouted, obviously annoyed. She'd just got a good rushing going and they went and cut her off right in middle of it! She's was gonna be hyped up and on edge for the rest of the damn day now thanks to that! "I was right in the middle of the program—I wasn't done yet!"

"Sorry, kid," Michael's apologetic voice came over the intercom, "but we've seen all that we need to see for the moment. You're done for the day—go shower up."

"At least give me a little warning next time," Normandy huffed angrily. Walking across the V.R. room the two-toned-haired teen jammed the prop guns back into their holders and exited the room, unzipping the V.R. body suit as she went.

Up in the control room, Michael sighed heavily and turned to Sam, Bonnie, Mike, and Sarah. "Well?" he questioned. "What's the verdict?"

"She… most definitely has the skill required for the job," Sarah commented hesitantly. "And the agility and strength and… well… to put it in a nutshell she's fit."

"She also seems to be extremely efficient," Bonnie added.

"And enthusiastic," Mike threw in.

"Mmm, yes," Sam murmured almost to herself, still gazing out the window, "almost _**too **_enthusiastic for my taste. Particularly in terms of lethal circumstances."

"Yeah," Michael chuckled awkwardly, "she does seem to enjoy going in for the kill."

"Enjoy it?" Sam snorted incredulously, giving the man a look. "Well, that is certainly the understatement of the century. She doesn't just "enjoy" it, Michael, she practically lives for it! You saw the same simulation as I did, Michael; you saw how she deliberately shot to kill. She didn't have to kill all of the guards but she did anyway. Why? Because she _**wanted**_ to. Michael we have a trained, cold-blooded assassin on our hands here. You can't possibly consider her for the new Knight Rider!"

"Part of me agrees with you, Sam," Michael said, "but an even bigger part of me still tells me that we have to give Normandy a chance. I mean the poor kid's been through hell: shot, poisoned, lost all the family she had. She has no friends, no place to go—we can't just turn our backs on her. And, I mean, who are we to judge? We don't know a lot about this girl."

"Exactly, Michael," Sam cut back in. "We don't know a lot about here—_**that's**_ the issue here. She could have been sent by an enemy to spy on FLAG operations and take us down from the inside."

"Oh, come on, Sam!"

"It's not improbable, Michael."

"I'm not turning this girl away, Sam," Michael stated adamantly with a hard gaze. "Not until we've helped her in whatever way we can. Besides this was KITT's idea in the first place and since he's the one who's gonna have the new partner, he should be the one to decide who it will be. I know KITT. He has never steered me wrong and I trust his judgement so if he trusts Normandy enough to give her a chance then so do I."

Sam sighed heavily in either defeat or exasperation—with Sam it was next to impossible to tell—and hoisted herself to her feet. She straightened her suit. "I hope you're right, Michael," she stated, though she didn't sound at all convinced about the whole thing. "I hope both you and KITT are right." With that the woman turned and left the room, Mike and Sarah following after her.

Michael watched them leave and then turned back to face the consul again, resting his elbows on it and then hiding his face in his hands. He sighed. Gentle hands were placed upon his shoulders and began massaging them, trying to loosen the tension. "Am I doing the right thing here, Bonnie?" he murmured.

"I don't know," Bonnie replied softly, wrapping her arms around her husband and resting her head on his shoulder. "I think you're doing what you think is right, and in the end that's probably the best and only thing you can do. Besides, honey, it's like you said. This is what KITT wants and since he's the one that this affects the most he should be the one making the decisions."

"Yeah, you're right," Michael sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I just hope this isn't something we're all going to regret."

* * *

><p>Later that afternoon Michael was down by the track, watching intently as Normandy ran not a one mile or a two mile but a three mile circuit in impressive time. What was even more impressive was the fact that she barely looked like she was struggling to breathe by the time she'd finished the run. The man couldn't help but shake his head in sheer wonder. This girl was a marvel. "Hey, kid!" he called to get her attention, waving as he did.<p>

Normandy looked up from where she was stretching. "What are you doing down here?" she asked, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. Her tone sounded annoyed. First he puts her under twenty-four/seven surveillance, then he stops her right in the middle of a good, adrenaline pumping work out, now he was down here watching her? "Are you here to keep an eye on me, too? Because it's not as if I don't already have enough people watching my every move all day long." She motioned towards the guards standing along the edge of the track.

"Easy, Normandy," Michael chuckled with a disarming smile. He came down the steps to the track. "I'm not here to do anything like that."

The teenager watched him carefully. "Then what are you here for?"

Michael shrugged. "Just to be friendly," he answered. "To talk. I don't usually see you out and about this time of day."

"Yeah, well, I'm not usually left hanging in the middle of an adrenaline high either," Normandy shot back. "So it looks like we're both having odd experiences today."

"Finally get it worked off then?" Michael questioned, concerning her adrenaline high.

"Yeah," Normandy answered. "No thanks to you though. Is this what you wanted to come down and talk to me about?"

"Not really," Michael admitted. "I had something a little more important in mind." He motioned a hand around the track. "Care to join me for a walk? You can cool down."

For a long couple minutes Normandy looked the man over, trying to find out what he was up to and what he wanted, but she couldn't find anything. She finally nodded. "Okay, sure." Michael nodded and began to walk around the track and the girl followed after him, still confused and still watching him carefully.

They walked around the first corner of the track before Michael began talking again. "Normandy, I'm going to be honest with you," the man began. "The reason we're testing you and trying to find out what you're capable of is because we're looking at you to take over a prestigious and extremely important position here at FLAG."

Normandy froze mid-stride. She slowly looked up at the man with a disbelieving expression. "Say what now?"

Michael chuckled. "You heard me," he replied.

"…Why?"

"It's… for a friend really," Michael carefully explained. "See, the position used to be mine and we were field partners but now I'm retired and he needs a new partner. He thinks I should be you."

Normandy stood in dumbfounded silence, unsure whether to feel flattered or be creeped out by the concept of an unknown person thinking she should be his field partner. "What's… um… what's the position?" she questioned, unable to help being a bit intrigued.

"It's called the 'Knight Rider'," Michael answered. He snorted at Normandy's expression. "Yeah, it's a bit of a play on words."

"What does the Knight Rider do exactly?"

"Well… you go on missions all over the country, sometimes to other parts of the world, and help bring a stop to big syndicate crime. And sometimes you get caught up in helping take down smaller syndicate crimes if you're in the right place at the right time. It's fast-paced and adrenaline pumping, something I think you'd be into."

Normandy couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. It certainly sounded exciting! She was definitely into stuff like that.

"It also takes lots of skill and training which is where you're consideration greatly comes into play," Michael continued on. "You're competent and skilled in many areas that are required to be the Knight Rider, Normandy, as well as talented. It would be a no-brainer to assign you the title of Knight Rider right now. The problem is we can't do that."

The child cocked her head and gave the man a befuddled look. First he was raving about how she would be perfect for this and now he was saying that he couldn't give it her. Did that sound at all contradictory to anyone else? "I don't understand," she confessed.

"We can't make you the new Knight Rider because we hardly know you, Normandy," Michael explained, watching the girl carefully. "We know that you're skilled and talented and everything else that the Knight Rider should be… but we don't know why. You're thirteen-years-old, Normandy, and you can take out at least a dozen full grown men twice your size and nearly three times your weight. You kill without hesitation and you seem to enjoy it. For cryin' out loud, girl, look at your hair and your eyes! I don't know what you are, kid, but I'm not entirely convinced that you're completely human."

"So… you're saying I can't be the Knight Rider because… you don't know me well enough," Normandy laid out the situation.

"Think about it, Normandy," Michael replied calmly, "would you give a position as important as Knight Rider to a girl you barely knew when she could do things like you?"

Normandy was silent for a moment before finally admitting, "No. I guess I wouldn't." She thought this over for a moment. "So… say I was interested in being this Knight Rider… what would I have to do to make it at least possible to become it."

"Explain yourself," Michael answered right out. "Tell us who you really are, where you come from, how you can do what you do, why you do what you do, the works."

Normandy took a step backwards. "That's a lot of personal information to ask of me, Mr. Knight," she stated, her voice guarded. "Almost too much to be giving away when all you can offer me in return is the mere possibility of becoming the Knight Rider."

Michael sighed heavily. "Well, those are the terms," he told her. He began to walk in the opposite direction patting her shoulder as he went by. "I'll leave you to think it over." Before her got too far away the man paused and then turned to say over his shoulder. "Just for the record, you're the only one we're officially considering for the position, so the chances of you becoming the new Knight Rider are all but completely guaranteed." And with that the man kept walking.

* * *

><p>"Well, this is a fine pickle we're in," Sam sighed heavily and she absentmindedly swiveled back and forth in her chair. It was now evening, and she and Michael and Bonnie were in her office, discussing the situation at hand. "Either we possibly have a new Knight Rider right at our finger tips, or we don't and we have to start from scratch and begin the search. It could possibly take years to find someone capable of being the new Rider, not to mention the amount of time it will take to train them. That's the only thing I find fortunate in Normandy's consideration. She is already trained, and it wouldn't take much more before we could begin sending her out on missions. Of course we would have to wait until she was eighteen to make the title official, but until then…."<p>

"I gave her the conditions," Michael stated, trying to hide his own worry, "and I told her to think on it. She seemed hesitant at first, but I think in the end she will decide to comply."

"I hope you're right, Michael," Bonnie murmured. "Considering what we've learned of Normandy and her personality these past few weeks I'm inclined to agree with you, but you still never know. Talking about her past is a major step of trust, and I'm afraid we don't have that trust there."

"So all this is hinging on it the girl's apparent love of thrill and adventure," Sam mumbled half-way to herself. "Forgive me when I say that I do not favor our odds."

Without warning the sound of creaking hinges drew all three adults' attentions towards the door to find Normandy standing there in the doorway. Much to everyone's amazement she looked a bit unsure, perhaps even a bit sheepish. Her hands were folded behind her back and her head was lowered so that her bangs hid her eyes, assuring that she wouldn't have to worry about making eye contract. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly, almost too soft to hear, "am I interrupting?"

There was a long pause of silence as all the adults were still a bit too surprised to say anything, but then Bonnie finally shook off her stupor and stood with a smile. "Of course not, Normandy," she assured the girl with a slight laugh. "You're not interrupting anything that's important, please come in and sit down."

Still not looking up, Normandy nodded and came into the room, closing the door behind her. She took the chair Michael offered to her and quietly sat down, still not daring to look up. "Um…" she said after a minute or two of silence, "… I've been thinking… about Mr. Knight's proposition…." Her voice trailed off as she wasn't quite sure how to say this or even if she should be doing this.

"Yes?" Sam prodded.

Normandy swallowed hard and finally made herself hold her head up, forcing a determined look onto her face. She brushed her hair out of the way. "And I've decided to consent to the terms he gave me."

The adults all stared in utter shock. "You mean…" Michael began but Normandy cut him off.

"Yes," she said with an affirmative nod. "You wanted to know who I am and why I am the way I am. Well, buckle up, because you're all in for a ride."


End file.
